Contents

Foreword

Carmen de Sodoma

De Ligno Vitae-The Tree of Life

The Phoenix

Agnes beatae virginis

Intende qui regis Israel

The Gospel Epic

Corde natus ex parentius

The Poems of St. Paulinus of Nola

Psalm against the Donatists

Eucharistos (Thanksgiving)

Commonitorium

“De Laudibus Dei”

Alethia

De spiritualis historiae gestis

“Carmen Paschale”

Poetry of Venantius Fortunatus

About Classical Wisdom Weekly

Foreword

By Ben Potter

Our anthology of Latin, Christian poets begins with probably the most controversial inclusion presented for your enjoyment. Tertullian (c.155-c.240) was a Carthaginian of Berber origin; not that this has anything to do with the controversy over his inclusion here or his legitimacy amongst his contemporaries. Once a Roman province had been successfully assimilated into the Empire, then matters of origin, race and skin colour seemed to be of negligible importance; a Roman was a Roman – especially if he was an educated one.

The sticking point many purists may have about the inclusion of Tertullian is that a) he wasn’t predominantly (or perhaps at all) a poet and b) the two excerpts included here are only spuriously attributable to the great man.

His inclusion, therefore, is justified by the facts that we have no other writer to whom we can more positively attribute said poems, and that, although poetry wasn’t his raison d’être there was, perhaps, no other Latin, Christian writer more prolific, pioneering or important.

His deeply pious and innovative corpus (he was the first Latin to propound the idea of the Trinity) and his polemic preaching and propaganda would have made him a controversial and potentially treacherous figure e.g. he refused to recognise the divinity of the emperor.

Whether or not we accept him as the author of the two poems here (or as an author of poetry at all!), Tertullian deserves a special mention as, without him, it is conceivable that Latin Christian poetry would have ended up as a flickering shadow of its current self; or that, potentially, Christianity would not have come to flourish across Europe in the manner that it did.

Moving on to a man who knew a thing or two about the early days of Christian supremacy being, as he was, a confidant of Constantine the Great: Tertullian’s fellow North African, Lactantius (c.250-c.325).

Like Tertullian, Lactantius was not prominently known for his poetry, however the 170-line composition, The Phoenix, can be far more credibly attributed than the works of his predecessor. Not that this should detract from his prose work. Indeed, during the Renaissance, his series of Christian apologetics were so highly regarded that he was to become known as the ‘Christian Cicero’.

Though The Phoenix, reproduced here in its entirety, is not specifically/necessarily a Christian poem, it does not take a great leap of imagination to see that, when viewed in the context of Lactantius’ other works, a story about a mystical, magical creature that dies and comes back to life is a blatant, though very beautiful, analogy for the story of Christ.

The first European to make our list is the German-born Bishop of Milan, St Ambrose (c.340-397). Interestingly, and much like Thomas Becket, Ambrose was not a career churchman; only graduating to the post of bishop out of expediency and after a long, secular career. Though astonishingly, and unlike Becket, Ambrose had not actually been baptised at the point he was selected for his divine duty.

More importantly than his clerical works, Ambrose was a keen writer of hymns. Indeed, the eighteen works commonly attributed to him helped establish Ambrose as “the Father of Church-song”.

However, if Ambrose was a pious, prosodic game-changer vis-à-vis the hymn, then the same thing could have been said about Juvencus regarding the Christian epic.

The poetry, passion and piety of Juvencus place him firmly amidst those figures from history who were not merely great, noble, heroic or talented, but very much the right man for the right time.

The four-book epic poem he produced on the life of Christ – a literary work, perhaps more than any other, taken directly from the Gospels – was the natural product of a pious, Spanish Christian writing at the dawn of that religion’s supremacy i.e. the age of Constantine the Great (the 4th century).

Juvencus was perfectly placed to have been educated under a zeitgeist demanding that he be weaned on the mellifluous milk of Homer and Virgil, but was, simultaneously, to have had the benefit of that paradoxical, sober enlightenment that enabled him to realize such stories were merely that; stories.

What prize, what glory, what immortal fame then would be given to a text as mighty as the Odyssey or Aeneid, but one that also had the divine virtue of being true!

Beyond the glory of the poetry itself and the literary immortality that comes with it, Juvencus also seems conscious of the idea that writing a proselytizing text of such pious propaganda would not only steer his own soul heavenwards, but will also save his readers from an impious afterlife of eternal torture!

Such is the weight of this work that only a very few excerpts from this forerunner to Dante and Milton have been included in this anthology.

Staying with the holy men of Hispania we now turn our attention to Prudentius (348-c.413). This lawyer turned governor turned ascetic and vegetarian is one author in our long list of holy hymnsters whose work is still heard in churches to this day. His corde natus ex parentis (Of the Father’s Love Begotten) is a choral, Christmas ode sung throughout Christendom today during the festive period.

St Paulinus of Nola (354-431), a high-born Gaul from the Senatorial classes, renounced his status and wealth in order to live a life of simplistic devotion to the Lord devoid of the temptations and trappings of refined life. However, his lofty origins belie his noble attempts at simplicity; in particular it’s clear from his own words that the fires of art and poetry sear through his veins – his efforts to redirect them to holy pursuits can only be admired.

Our next contender again reinforces the point that Christianity would surely not have flourished in Europe had it not been fired in the crucible of African piety. For now we turn our attention to, probably, the most revered poet on our illustrious list, St Augustine of Hippo (354-430).

The influence of this man… sorry, this saint… is so vast and important that he is the patron of brewers, painters, theologians and, most spectacularly of all, Bridgeport, Connecticut! Likewise he has been a direct and key influence on some of history’s greatest men: Thomas Aquinas, Martin Luther, John Calvin and, even more impressive than Bridgeport, Connecticut, Bob Dylan!

To fully go into his scope and import would require another volume, equal in size to this one, about this man alone. So, for now, we’ll have to ask you to be contented with the excerpt within from the Psalm against the Donatists. Hopefully its power and passion will stir an interest into this most consistently and constantly revered of all ancient Christians.

Our second St Paulinus (377-c.461), this time of Pella, not Nola, wrote a fascinating and insightful work of thanksgiving (Eucharisticos); the method by which the author shows gratitude to God for guiding him through the trials and tribulations of an eventful and harrowing life. Though the work stands alone as a testimony to one man’s faith and thanks to his creator, it also gives a unique insight into life in Roman Gaul during the fifth century.

Orientius was probably born in the latter years of the fourth century and seems to have been poetically active from around the 430s. He has been occasionally identified as being the Bishop of Auch, probably in no small part due to his moralising and preachy Commonitorium; two books of elegiac couplets outlining the best way one should lead a Christian life and, consequently make one’s way into heaven. In particular he admonishes lying, avarice, jealousy, gluttony, lustfulness, drunkenness and other such pleasant forms of immoderation.

Following in the footsteps of Juvencus, Dracontius (c.455-c.505), yet another of our Carthaginian Christians, has his own crack at that most taxing of all literary forms, the epic. His three book, 2327 hexameter De laudibus Dei covers the creation of the world, God’s inherent goodness, man’s wickedness, God’s forgiveness of said wickedness and how this in turn shows that all men are duty-bound to repay such love and compassion with perpetual worship.

Sticking with Christian epic, the Aletheia (truth) of the fifth century poet Claudius Marius Victorius chronicles the creation of the world down to the razing of Sodom. However, as the forth and final book of the epic is missing, it is speculated that the story in fact ended with the death of Abraham.

Though obviously a process of evolution, by the time of Claudius Marius Victorius we can safely state that Latin Christian poetry was a genre in its own right as, though heavily influenced by Virgil, Ovid and Lucretius, he also draws literary inspiration from his Christian forebears Lactantius, Prudentius and Ambrose.

Bishop Avitus of Vienne (c470-c.517), not to be confused with the emperor of the same name to whom he was a relation, wrote a five-book poem entitled De spiritalis historiae gestis (The events of spiritual history). Even though this work seems primarily concerned with denouncing certain contemporary Christian schismatics and connecting the faded and elusive dots between the Old Testament and the life of Christ, it is unquestionably one of the, if not the most objectively skilful and beautiful examples of Latin Christian poetry. Lines such as “Beyond the land of India where the world begins, where, it is said, the extremities of earth and sky meet, there is a grove on an inaccessible height bounded by a limitless horizon” exemplify as well as anywhere else in the Christian canon, art that can transcend… can enlighten the soul of even the staunchest unbeliever.

That the Carmen Paschale (Easter Song) was written by the fifth century poet Sedulius is one of the very few things we know about this man. What we can piece together is that, like many of his contemporaries in this anthology, he was a Christian convert and is preoccupied with proselytizing the word of the one true God. Indeed, in a letter to a friend, he freely admits that he is using poetry as his vehicle of conversion as he believes the beauty and grace of the format make the message more compelling.

We finish our round-up of Latin Christian poetry with a personal favourite of mine, Venantius Fortunatus (c.530-c.600). Though some may (with good cause) dispute his inclusion herein due to the fact that he was born after the fall of Rome, his style, ethos and literary tradition place him firmly within the Roman, Christian poetical context. And, regardless, he’s rather good!

That said, it should always be kept in mind that this was a man whose loyalty and life depended on the caprice of the Merovingian Court every bit as much, and perhaps a good deal more, than it did on the fledgling Catholic Church. Incidentally, if one wished to see a no-holds-barred critique of Merovingian life then one would be advised to dip into Gregory of Tours – though here we are beginning to seriously overstep our ‘Classical’ remit!

More than anything else, we sincerely hope that the four pious pieces of Fortunatus’ poetry included herein are, like all the included excerpts, artistically fulfilling, religiously enlightening, and provide an insight into a world of physical and spiritual struggle; one that was, simultaneously, fighting a battle for the safety of the decaying and decadent last days of the Roman Empire, and also for the spiritual and corporeal salvation of the new kids on the block, the Christians.

-Ben Potter (September, 2016)

Carmen de Sodoma

Turtullian (Unconfirmed)

Translated by J.W. Mackail

Turtullian played a large role in the Early Christian movement in the Roman world. A Christian writer from Carthage in the late 2nd century and early 3rd century A.D., Turtullian was the first Christian writer to produce a large collection of Latin Christian works. He is known as one of the earliest Christian apologists, defending the religion against the many who objected to it in his time.

Not only did he write Christian literature, but he also created and advanced new theology in the early Church. His works covered a wide range of topics relevant to Christian life at the time including the justification of Christianity against paganism and Judaism, morals, polity, and how to adhere to a Christian life style, which painted a picture of early Christian life and thought. His contributions to early Christianity are so important that he is often called “the father of Latin Christianity” and “the founder of Western Theology”.

The poem Carmen de Sodoma is attributed to Turtullian, but it is still unconfirmed because of the possibility of the work being written by someone else in the style of Turtullian. The poem itself revolves around the story found in the Book of Genesis about the destruction of the sin-ridden city of Sodom. In Genesis, Abraham asks God if Sodom could be spared if he found ten righteous people. After Abraham went off to search for the righteous people, two angels were sent in disguise to investigate and found Abraham’s nephew, Lot, who treated them with kindness. The poem details Lot’s experience with the two angels and the eventual destruction of the city reflecting early Christian morals and the power of God.

Already had Almighty God wiped off

By vengeful flood (with waters all conjoined

Which heaven discharged on earth and the sea’s plain1

Outspued) the times of the primeval age:

Had pledged Himself, while nether air should bring

The winters in their course, ne’er to decree,

By liquid ruin, retribution’s due;

And had assigned, to curb the rains, the bow

Of many hues, sealing the clouds with band

Of purple and of green, Iris its name,

The rain-clouds’ proper baldric.

But alike

With mankind’s second race impiety

Revives, and a new age of ill once more

Shoots forth; allotted now no more to showers

For ruin, but to fires: thus did the land

Of Sodom earn to be by glowing dews

Upburnt, and typically thus portend

The future end. There wild voluptuousness

(Modesty’s foe) stood in the room of law;

Which prescient guest would shun, and sooner choose

At Scythian or Busirian altar’s foot

‘Mid sacred rites to die, and, slaughtered, pour

His blood to Bebryx, or to satiate

Libyan palaestras, or assume new forms;

By virtue of Circaean cups, than lose

His outraged sex in Sodom. At heaven’s gate

There knocked for vengeance marriages commit

With equal incest common ‘mong a race

By nature rebels ‘gainst themselves; and hurts

Done to man’s name and person equally.

But God, forewatching all things, at fix’d time

Doth judge the unjust; with patience tarrying

The hour when crime’s ripe age-not any force

Of wrath impetuous-shall have circumscribed

The space for waiting. Now at length the day

Of vengeance was at hand. Sent from the host

Angelical, two, youths in form, who both

Were ministering spirits, carrying

The Lord’s divine commissions, come beneath

The walls of Sodom. There was dwelling Lot

A transplantation from a pious stock;

Wise, and a practicer of righteousness,

He was the only one to think on God:

As oft a fruitful tree is wont to lurk,

Guest-like, in forests wild. He, sitting then

Before the gate (for the celestials scarce

Had reached the ramparts), though he knew not them

Divine, accosts them unsolicited,

Invites, and with ancestral honour greets;

And offers them, preparing to abide

Abroad, a hospice. By repeated prayers

He wins them; and then ranges studiously

The sacred pledges on his board, and quits

His friends with courteous offices. The night

Had brought repose: alternate dawn had chased

The night, and Sodom with her shameful law

Makes uproar at the doors. Lot, suppliant wise,

Withstands: “Young men, let not your new fed lust

Enkindle you to violate this youth!

Whither is passion’s seed inviting you?

To what vain end your lust? For such an end

No creatures wed: not such as haunt the fens;

Not stall-fed cattle; not the gaping brood

Subaqueous; nor they which, modulant

On pinions, hang suspended near the clouds;

Nor they which with forth-stretched body creep

Over earth’s face. To conjugal delight

Each kind its kind doth owe: but female still

To all is wife; nor is there one that has

A mother save a female one. Yet now,

If youthful vigour holds it right to waste

The flower of modesty, I have within

Two daughters of a nuptial age, in whom

Virginity is swelling in its bloom,

Already ripe for harvest-a desire

Worthy of men-which let your pleasure reap!

Myself their sire, I yield them; and will pay

For my guests’ sake, the forfeit of my grief!”

Answered the mob insane: “And who art thou7

And what? and whence? to lord it over us,

And to expound us laws? Shall foreigner

Rule Sodom, and hurl threats? Now, then, thyself

For daughters and for guests shalt sate our greed!

One shall suffice for all!” So said, so done:

The frantic mob delays not. As, whene’er

A turbid torrent rolls with wintry tide,

And rushes at one speed through countless streams

Of rivers, if, just where it forks, some tree

Meets the swift waves (not long to stand, save while

By her root’s force she shall avail to oppose

Her tufty obstacles), when gradually

Her hold upon the undermined soil

Is failing, with her bared stem she hangs,

And, with uncertain heavings to and fro,

Defers her certain fall; not otherwise

Lot in the mid-whirl of the dizzy mob

Kept nodding, now almost o’ercome. But power

Divine brings succour: the angelic youths,

Snatching him from the threshold, to his roof

Restore him; but upon the spot they mulct

Of sight the mob insane in open day,-

Fit augury of coming penalties!

Then they unlock the just decrees of God:

That penalty condign from heaven will fall

On Sodom; that himself had merited

Safety upon the count of righteousness.

“Gird thee, then, up to hasten hence thy flight,

And with thee to lead oat what family

Thou hast: already we are bringing on

Destruction o’er the city.” Lot with speed

Speaks to his sons-in-law; but their hard heart

Scorned to believe the warning, and at fear

Laughed. At what time the light attempts to climb

The darkness, and heaven’s face wears double hue

From night and day, the youthful visitants

Were instant to outlead from Sodoma

The race Chaldaean, and the righteous house

Consign to safety: “Ho! come, Lot! arise,

And take thy yokefellow and daughters twain,

And hence, beyond the boundaries be gone,

Preventing Sodom’s penalties!” And eke

With friendly hands they lead them trembling forth,

And then their final mandates give: “Save, Lot,

Thy life, lest thou perchance should will to turn

Thy retroverted gaze behind, or stay

The step once taken: to the mountain speed!”

Lot feared to creep the heights with tardy step,

Lest the celestial wrath-fires should o’ertake

And whelm him: therefore he essays to crave

Some other ports; a city small, to wit,

Which opposite he had espied.”Hereto,”

He said, “I speed my flight: scarce with its walls

‘Tis visible; nor is it far, nor great.”

They, favouring his prayer, safety assured

To him and to the city; whence the spot

Is known in speech barbaric by the name

Segor. Lot enters Segor while the sun

Is rising, the last sun, which glowing bears

To Sodom conflagration; for his rays

He had armed all with fire: beneath him spreads

An emulous gloom, which seeks to intercep

The light; and clouds combine to interweave

Their smoky globes with the confused sky:

Down pours a novel shower: the ether seethe

With sulphur mixt with blazing flames: the air

Crackles with liquid heats exust. From hence

The fable has an echo of the truth

Amid its false, that the sun’s progeny

Would drive his father’s team; but nought availed

The giddy boy to curb the haughty steeds

Of fire: so blazed our orb: then lightning reft

The lawless charioteer, and bitter plaint

Transformed his sisters. Let Eridanus

See to it, if one poplar on his banks

Whitens, or any bird dons plumage there

Whose note old age makes mellow!

Here they mourn

O’er miracles of metamorphosis

Of other sort. For, partner of Lot’s flight,

His wife (ah me, for woman! even then20

Intolerant of law!) alone turned back

At the unearthly murmurs of the sky)

Her daring eyes, but bootlessly: not doomed

To utter what she saw! and then and there

Changed into brittle salt, herself her tomb

She stood, herself an image of herself,

Keeping an incorporeal form: and still

In her unsheltered station ‘neath the heaven

Dures she, by rains unmelted, by decay

And winds unwasted; nay, if some strange hand

Deface her form, forthwith from her own store

Her wounds she doth repair. Still is she said

To live, and, ‘mid her corporal change, discharge

With wonted blood her sex’s monthly dues.

Gone are the men of Sodom; gone the glare

Of their unhallowed ramparts; all the house

Inhospitable, with its lords, is gone:

The champaign is one pyre; here embers rough

And black, here ash-heaps with hoar mould, mark out

The conflagration’s course: evanished

Is all that old fertility which Lot,

Seeing outspread before him, …

No ploughman spends his fruitless toil on glebes

Pitchy with soot: or if some acres there,

But half consumed, still strive to emulate

Autumn’s glad wealth, pears, peaches, and all fruits

Promise themselves full easely to the eye

In fairest bloom, until the plucker’s hand

Is on them: then forthwith the seeming fruit

Crumbles to dust ‘neath the bewraying touch,

And turns to embers vain.

Thus, therefore (sky

And earth entombed alike), not e’en the sea

Lives there: the quiet of that quiet sea

Is death! -a sea which no wave animates

Through its anhealant volumes; which beneath

Its native Auster sighs not anywhere;

Which cannot from its depths one scaly race,

Or with smooth skin or cork-like fence encased,

Produce, or curled shell in single valve

Or double fold enclosed. Bitumen there

(The sooty reek of sea exust) alone,

With its own crop, a spurious harvest yields;

Which ‘neath the stagnant surface vivid heat

From seething mass of sulphur and of brine

Maturing tempers, making earth cohere

Into a pitch marine. At season due

The heated water’s fatty ooze is borne

Up to the surface; and with foamy flakes

Over the level top a tawny skin

Is woven. They whose function is to catch

That ware put to, tilting their smooth skin. down

With balance of their sides, to teach the film,

Once o’er the gunnel, to float in: for, lo!

Raising itself spontaneous, it will swim

Up to the edge of the unmoving craft;

And will, when pressed, for guerdon large, ensure

Immunity from the defiling touch

Of weft which female monthly efflux clothes.

Behold another portent notable,

Fruit of that sea’s disaster: all things cast

Therein do swim: gone is its native power

For sinking bodies: if, in fine, you launch

A torch’s lightsome hull (where spirit serves

For fire) therein, the apex of the flame

Will act as sail; put out the flame, and ‘neath

The waters will the light’s wrecks ruin go!

Such Sodom’s and Gomorrah’s penalties,

For ages sealed as signs before the eyes

Of unjust nations, whose obdurate hearts

God’s fear have quite forsaken, will them teach

To reverence heaven-sanctioned rights, and lift

Their gaze unto one only Lord of all

-Translated by J.W. Mackail

De Ligno Vitae-The Tree of Life

Turtullian (unconfirmed)

Like Carmen de Sodoma, there is some debate around whether De Lingo Vitae can be attributed to Turtullian himself. The poem, however, does reflect his style of Christian teaching through poetry. In this poem, Turtullian gives a detailed description of the Tree of Life and its miraculous birth and growth. After becoming heavy with sweet fruit, people from all over surround the tree and start to greedily grab at the fruit.

Turtullian then goes on to explain the experience of the people who taste the fruit and discovered that it was not what they wanted despite their longing for it. He makes a distinction between those who reject the truth and revert back to their old ways and those who accept the truth and have purer minds and souls. This reflects the belief that those who accept the truth of Christianity cleanse themselves and become better people.

There is a place, we believe, at the centre of the world,

Called Golgotha by the Jews in their native tongue.

Here was planted a tree cut from a barren stump:

This tree, I remember hearing, produced wholesome fruits,

But it did not bear these fruits for those who had settled there:

It was foreigners who picked these lovely fruits.

This is what the tree looked like: it rose from a single stem

And then extended its arms into two branches

Just like the heavy yardarms on which billowing sails are stretched

Or like the yoke beneath which two oxen are put to the plough.

The shoot that sprung from the first ripe seed

Germinated in the earth and then, miraculously,

On the third day it produced a branch once more,

Terrifying to the earth and to those above, but rich in life-giving fruit.

But over the next forty days it increased in strength,

Growing into a huge tree which touched the heavens

With its topmost branches and then hid its saccred head on high.

In the meantime it produced twelve branches of enormous

Weight and stretched forth, spreading them over the whole world:

They were to bring nourishment and eternal life to all

The nations and to teach them that death can die.

And then after a further fifty days had passed

From its top the tree caused a draught of divine nectar

To flow into its branches, a breeze of the heavenly spirit.

All over the tree the leaves were dripping with sweet dew.

And look! Beneath the branches shady cover

There was a spring, with waters bright and clear

For there was nothing there to disturb the calm. Around it in the grass

A variety of flowers shone forth in bright colours.

Around this spring countless races and peoples gathered,

Of different stock, sex, age and rank,

Married and unmarried, widows, young married women,

Babies, children and men, both young and old.

When they saw the branches here bending down, under the weight

Of many sorts of fruit, they gleefully reached out with greedy hands

To touch the fruits dripping with heavenly nectar.

But they could not pick them with their eager hands

Until they had wiped off the dirt and filthy traces

Of their former life, washing their bodies in the holy spring.

And so they strolled around on the soft grass for some time

And looked up at the fruits hanging from the tall tree.

If they ate the shells that fell from those branches

And the sweet greenery dripping with plenty of nectar,

Then they were overcome with a desire to pick the real fruit.

And when their mouths first experienced the heavenly taste,

Their minds were transformed and their greedy impulses

Began to disappear; by the sweet taste they knew the man.

We have seen that an unusual taste or the poison of gall

Mixed with honey causes annoyance in many:

They rejected what tasted good because they were confused

And did not like what they had eagerly grabbed at,

Finally spitting out the taste of what they had for long drunk unwisely.

But it often happens that many, once their thoughts are set to rights,

Find their sick minds restored and achieve what they denied

Was possible and so obtain the fruits of their labours.

Many, too, having dared to touch the sacred waters,

Have suddenly departed, slipping back again

To roll around in the same mixture of mud and filth.

But others, faithfully carrying the truth within them, receive it

With their whole soul and store it deep in their hearts.

And so the seventh day sets those who can approach

The sacred spring beside the waters they longed for,

And they dip their bodies that have been fasting.

Only so do they rid themselves of the filth of their thoughts

And the stains of their former life, bringing back from death

Souls that are pure and shining, destined for heaven’s light.

The Phoenix

Lactantius

Translated by A.S. Kline

Lacantius was a Christian writer in the 3rd and 4th centuries A.D. who is known for being an advisor to Emperor Constantine helping him shape his religious policy. Lacantius was not born a Christian but became a Christian later in life after having a successful public career as a professor of rhetoric. After converting to Christianity, a persecution of Christians forced him to leave his home and live in poverty barely getting by with his writings until Constantine became his patron.

As a result of being highly educated, Lacantius’ writing harkens back to many classical models and is often referred to as the “Christian Cicero”. He was a favorite among Christian Fathers for both his subject matter and his writing style. His works consisted of apologetic writings as well as organized and well thought out demonstrations of Christian thought.

In his poem, The Phoenix, Lacantius outlines the life, death and rebirth of the mystical bird. Through this concept, Lacantius points out the importance of the after life in Christianity. Having lived a full life, death brings about rebirth for the phoenix much like how death brings about rebirth in the after life for Christians. Through death both the phoenix and the Christian gain immortality through death.

There is a happy spot, retired in the first East, where the great gate of the eternal pole lies open. It is not, however, situated near to his rising in summer or in winter, but where the sun pours the day from his vernal chariot. There a plain spreads its open tracts; nor does any mound rise, nor hollow valley open itself. But through twice six ells that place rises above the mountains, whose tops are thought to be lofty among us. Here is the grove of the sun; a wood stands planted with many a tree, blooming with the honour of perpetual foliage. When the pole had blazed with the fires of Phaethon, that place was uninjured by the flames; and when the deluge had immersed the world in waves, it rose above the waters of Deucalion. No enfeebling diseases, no sickly old age, nor cruel death, nor harsh fear, approaches hither, nor dreadful crime, nor mad desire of riches, nor Mars, nor fury, burning with the love of slaughter. Bitter grief is absent, and want clothed in rags, and sleepless cares, and violent hunger. No tempest rages there, nor dreadful violence of the wind; nor does the hoar-frost cover the earth with cold dew. No cloud extends its fleecy covering above the plains, nor does the turbid moisture of water fall from on high; but there is a fountain in the middle, which they call by the name of living; it is clear, gentle, and abounding with sweet waters, which, bursting forth once during the space of each month, twelve times irrigates all the grove with waters. Here a species of tree, rising with lofty stem, bears mellow fruits not about to fall on the ground. This grove, these woods, a single bird, the phœnix, inhabits,— single, but it lives reproduced by its own death. It obeys and submits to Phœbus, a remarkable attendant. Its parent nature has given it to possess this office. When at its first rising the saffron morn grows red, when it puts to flight the stars with its rosy light, thrice and four times she plunges her body into the sacred waves, thrice and four times she sips water from the living stream. She is raised aloft, and takes her seat on the highest top of the lofty tree, which alone looks down upon the whole grove; and turning herself to the fresh risings of the nascent Phœbus, she awaits his rays and rising beam. And when the sun has thrown back the threshold of the shining gate, and the light gleam of the first light has shone forth, she begins to pour strains of sacred song, and to hail the new light with wondrous voice, which neither the notes of the nightingale nor the flute of the Muses can equal with Cyrrhæan strains. But neither is it thought that the dying swan can imitate it, nor the tuneful strings of the lyre of Mercury. After that Phœbus has brought back his horses to the open heaven, and continually advancing, has displayed his whole orb; she applauds with thrice-repeated flapping of her wings, and having thrice adored the fire-bearing head, is silent. And she also distinguishes the swift hours by sounds not liable to error by day and night: an overseer of the groves, a venerable priestess of the wood, and alone admitted to your secrets, O Phœbus. And when she has now accomplished the thousand years of her life, and length of days has rendered her burdensome, in order that she may renew the age which has glided by, the fates pressing her, she flees from the beloved couch of the accustomed grove. And when she has left the sacred places, through a desire of being born again, then she seeks this world, where death reigns. Full of years, she directs her swift flight into Syria, to which Venus herself has given the name of Phœnice; and through trackless deserts she seeks the retired groves in the place, where a remote wood lies concealed through the glens. Then she chooses a lofty palm, with top reaching to the heavens, which has the pleasing name of phœnix from the bird, and where no hurtful living creature can break through, orslimy serpent, or any bird of prey. Then Æolas shuts in the winds in hanging caverns, lest they should injure the bright air with their blasts, or lest a cloud collected by the south wind through the empty sky should remove the rays of the sun, and be a hindrance to the bird. Afterwards she builds for herself either a nest or a tomb, for she perishes that she may live; yet she produces herself. Hence she collects juices and odours, which the Assyrian gathers from the rich wood, which the wealthy Arabian gathers; which either the Pygmæan nations, or India crops, or the Sabæan land produces from its soft bosom. Hence she heaps together cinnamon and the odour of the far-scented amomum, and balsams with mixed leaves. Neither the twig of the mild cassia nor of the fragrant acanthus is absent, nor the tears and rich drop of frankincense. To these she adds tender ears of flourishing spikenard, and joins the too pleasing pastures of myrrh. Immediately she places her body about to be changed on the strewed nest, and her quiet limbs on such a couch. Then with her mouth she scatters juices around and upon her limbs, about to die with her own funeral rites. Then amidst various odours she yields up her life, nor fears the faith of so great a deposit. In the meantime her body, destroyed by death, which proves the source of life, is hot, and the heat itself produces a flame; and it conceives fire afar off from the light of heaven: it blazes, and is dissolved into burnt ashes. And these ashes collected in death it fuses, as it were, into a mass, and has an effect resembling seed. From this an animal is said to arise without limbs, but the worm is said to be of a milky colour. And it suddenly increases vastly with an imperfectly formed body, and collects itself into the appearance of a well-rounded egg. After this it is formed again, such as its figure was before, and the phoenix, having burst her shell, shoots forth, even as caterpillars in the fields, when they are fastened by a thread to a stone, are wont to be changed into a butterfly. No food is appointed for her in our world, nor does any one make it his business to feed her while unfledged. She sips the delicate ambrosial dews of heavenly nectar which have fallen from the star-bearing pole. She gathers these; with these the bird is nourished in the midst of odours, until she bears anatural form. But when she begins to flourish with early youth, she flies forth now about to return to her native abode. Previously, however, she encloses in an ointment of balsam, and in myrrh and dissolved frankincense, all the remains of her own body, and the bones or ashes, and relics of herself, and with pious mouth brings it into a round form, and carrying this with her feet, she goes to the rising of the sun, and tarrying at the altar, she draws it forth in the sacred temple. She shows and presents herself an object of admiration to the beholder; such great beauty is there, such great honour abounds. In the first place, her colour is like the brilliancy of that which the seeds of the pomegranate when ripe take under the smooth rind; such colour as is contained in the leaves which the poppy produces in the fields, when Flora spreads her garments beneath the blushing sky. Her shoulders and beautiful breasts shine with this covering; with this her head, with this her neck, and the upper parts of her back shine. And her tail is extended, varied with yellow metal, in the spots of which mingled purple blushes. Between her wings there is a bright mark above, as Tris on high is wont to paint a cloud from above. She gleams resplendent with a mingling of the green emerald, and a shining beak of pure horn opens itself. Her eyes are large; you might believe that they were two jacinths; from the middle of which a bright flame shines. An irradiated crown is fitted to the whole of her head, resembling on high the glory of the head of Phœbus. Scales cover her thighs spangled with yellow metal, but a rosy colour paints her claws with honour. Her form is seen to blend the figure of the peacock with that of the painted bird of Phasis. The winged creature which is produced in the lands of the Arabians, whether it be beast or bird, can scarcely equal her magnitude. She is not, however, slow, as birds which through the greatness of their body have sluggish motions, and a very heavy weight. But she is light and swift, full of royal beauty. Such she always shows herself in the sight of men. Egypt comes hither to such a wondrous sight, and the exulting crowd salutes the rare bird. Immediately they carve her image on the consecrated marble, and mark both the occurrence and the day with a new title. Birds of every kind assemble together; none is mindful of prey, none of fear. Attended by a chorus of birds, she flies through the heaven, and a crowd accompanies her, exulting in the pious duty. But when she has arrived at the regions of pure ether, she presently returns; afterwards she is concealed in her own regions. But oh, bird of happy lot and fate, to whom the god himself granted to be born from herself! Whether it be female, or male, or neither, or both, happy she, who enters into no compacts of Venus. Death is Venus to her; her only pleasure is in death: that she may be born, she desires previously to die. She is an offspring to herself, her own father and heir, her own nurse, and always a foster-child to herself. She is herself indeed, but not the same, since she is herself, and not herself, having gained eternal life by the blessing of death.

-Translated by A.S. Kline

Agnes beatae virginis

St. Amrose

Translated by Kathleen Pluth

Aurelius Ambrosius, known as St. Ambrose, was a bishop in Milan during the 4th century A.D. He proved to be a highly influential character in Christianity through out his life. He is known for being particularly harsh towards Jews, pagans and Arians. It has been told that St. Ambrose put a stop to Arainism in Milan, which argued that God created the Son of God and was therefore not one with God but was rather a subordinate to God. It is also said that St. Ambrose was highly influential in the outlawing of pagan practices in the Roman Empire.

Born into a Roman Christian family, Ambrosius wanted to follow in the footsteps of his father who was a praetorian prefect of Gaul, meaning he was part of the council that governed over Gaul. Ambrosius thus received a very good education in Rome allowing him to be come a governor in Gaul and later a Bishop in Milan.

As a bishop, St. Ambrose promoted the antiphonal chant in Church, which is a style where one side of the choir responds to the other side of the choir. St. Ambrose had a fondness of the hymns and poems sung in the Church and sometimes he wrote his own. In Agnes Beatae Virginis, St. Ambrose celebrates the virtue of a stead fast virgin while also making a distinction between the immoral ways of pagans and the moral ways of christians reflecting his antipaganism.

The blessed virgin Agnes flies

back to her home above the skies,

and she is born in heav’n above

because she gave her blood in love.

Mature enough to give her life,

though still too young to be a wife,

what joy she shows when death appears

that one would think: her bridegroom nears!

Her captors lead her to the fire

but she refuses their desire,

“For it is not such smold’ring brands

Christ’s virgins take into their hands.”

“This flaming fire of pagan rite

extinguishes all faith and light.

Then stab me here, so that the flood

may overcome this hearth in blood.”

And she was stabbed, and she was brave,

and dying, further witness gave,

for as she fell on bended knee

she wrapped her robes in modesty.

O Virgin-born, all praises be

to You throughout eternity.

and unto everlasting days

to Father and the Spirit, praise.

-Translated by Kathleen Pluth

Intende qui regis Israel

St. Ambrose

Translated by Canon Roberts

In Intende qui regis Israel, St. Ambrose tells the story of the birth of Jesus. In this hymn there is a heavy emphasis on the oneness of God and the Son of God. While Jesus came from God he is still part of God and that is what makes him worthy to lead the Christians. This is a reflection of his opposition to Arainism and revels rifts in the doctrines of early Christianity giving us insight into early Christian thought.

Give ear, O king of Israel,

seated above the Cherubim,

appear before Ephraim’s face,

stir up thy mightiness, and come.

Redeemer of the Gentiles, come;

show forth the birth from virgin’s womb;

let every age show wonderment;

such birth is fitting for our God.

Not issuing from husband’s seed,

but from the Spirit’s mystic breath,

God’s Word was fashioned into flesh,

and thrived as fruit of Mary’s womb.

The virgin’s womb begins to swell;

her maidenhead remains intact:

the banner of her virtues gleam;

God in his temple lives and stirs.

From his chamber let him come forth,

the royal court of chastity,

as giant of his twin natures

eager to hasten on his way.

First from the Father he set forth,

then to his Father he returns;

he sallies to the realms below,

then journeys back to God’s abode.

You are the eternal Father’s peer;

gird on your trophy of the flesh,

and strengthen with your constant power

the frailties of our bodies’ frame.

Your manger now is all aglow,

the night breathes forth a light unknown;

a light that never night may shroud,

and that shall gleam with constant faith.

-Translated by Canon Roberts

The Gospel Epic

The Preface, Book I and Book III

Juvencus

Translated by J.W. Mackail

Little is known about the life of Juvencus. Most of what is known about him comes from the writings of St. Jerome who tells us Juvencus was a Spanish Christian of good birth who wrote in the 4th century A.D. In his life he became a priest and wrote his epic poem The Gospel.

The poem, written in dactylic hexameter, tell the story of the life of Christ according to the Gospels mainly pulling from the Gospel of Matthew. Juvencus’ main objective in writing this poem was to render the Gospels into readable language similar to the tradition of the Latin poets, borrowing heavily from Virgil. In doing this he attempts to meet what he believes are the lies of the ancient poets, Homer and Virgil, with the truth presented in the Christian faith. Through doing this, Juvencus casts Jesus in the light of an epic hero such as Odysseus or Aenias. He divides the work into four books, which divide the life of Christ into four parts.

In the prologue of the work, Juvencus explains his reasoning for setting out to write this epic poem; revealing he hopes that in putting the story of Christ into poetry it will receive the praise it deserves and survive the eventual burning up of the world. In this way he hopes to immortalize the story of Christ and possibly save himself from the fires of Hell. From his prologue, Juvencus then launches into the birth of Christ heavily emphasizing the omnipotence of God. Later on in Book III Juvencus recounts the parable told in Matthew 18:12, which put emphasis on the individual’s responsibility to find God not God’s responsibility to find the individual.

The Preface

Nothing deathless there is in the whole fabric of this universe; neither this sphere nor the kingdoms of men, nor golden Rome, nor sea nor land, nor the fiery stars of the heavens.

For the Creator of the universe has decreed the inevitable time when a final scorching conflagration shall destroy the whole world.

And yet noble achievements and the glory of a virtuous life cause countless men to live in memory for ages, their fame and praises being sung by the poets.

Some the exalted melody flowing from the spring of

Smyrna, others the charming sweetness of Mincian Maro, have immortalized.

For the poets too no less a fame is heralded far and wide, which shall endure well-nigh eternal, as long as the ages will run, as long as the spinning pole sweeps round through starry space the lands and seas in their unchanging orbits.

And if poems, that weave lying fables into the deeds of the ancients, have merited so great praise, then our unshaken faith will win for us immortal glory and earn the reward of eternal praise through all the ages.

For my song shall be the life and deeds of Christ, God’s gift to mankind, without any falsehood.

Nor need I fear that the earth’s conflagration will destroy this work; perhaps even it will snatch me from that fire when in flaming clouds shall descend the Judge, who is Christ resplendent, the glory of the Father in heaven.

Come, then, Sanctifying Spirit, be Thou the inspirer of my song, and purify my mind with the clear waters of the sweetly-singing Jordan, that I may worthily sing the praises of Christ.

Selections from Book I

Herod, the cruel, was King over the Jewish people when Zachary, who observed the commandments of the Lord, was priest of the Temple. It happened now to be his turn according to the established rotation of chosen priests to conduct the services of the Temple. A faithful wife he had, most worthy of such an alliance. Both cherished an equal anxiety for the observance of justice, and the precepts of the law of God kept them attached to each other in mutual love. They had no children, however, though they were well advanced in years; hence this blessing would be all the more welcome now that they had lost hope.

But when Zachary was in his course in the Temple offering incense at the altar, an angel appeared to him descending from the open sky and bringing a message intended for him personally (for all the multitude of the people was at that moment praying outside on bended knee): “May the fear which this dread vision excites in your heart be dispelled by the grace of my joyful words.

For the sole Ruler of the universe in His goodness has ordered me to come to you with a message from the high throne of heaven. Your dear spouse shall bear you a son, the glory of whose deeds will be great, and he shall bring much joy to the nations in his nativity; wine he shall never touch; when yet in the womb of his mother he shall be filled with the Holy Ghost. By his teaching he shall convert the greater part of his people to the true path; he shall be the first to recognize his Lord and God, and he shall prepare for Him a perfect people. Remember you shall name him John.” My Soul doth sing exalted praise and gratitude to the

Lord of the vast universe. Scarce can my spirit contain such joy, for God hath graciously deigned to exalt my lowliness, and hath willed that all nations and ages henceforth call me blessed. Lo, He hath taken the power from the mighty and crushed the haughty; the lowly poor He hath endowed with lavish abundance.

There in the fullness of time the Virgin is delivered of the first fruit of her womb, and they wrapped the Child in cloths of ancient texture, and a manger served for His hard cradle. Out in the fertile fields shepherds were keeping careful guard over their flocks during the watches of the anxious night, when behold, at God’s behest an angel appeared descending from the sky. A sudden dread came upon the shepherds and, trembling with fear, they fell upon the grassy plain. And on their astonished ears these words came from the heavens: “Fear not, ye shepherds, but listen to my words; for to you I bring tidings of great joy. There is born to you a Child from the noble family of David, who is soon to proclaim a light to the nations and a great joy. This sign I shall vouchsafe to you; you shall presently be privileged to see a Child weeping softly in a manger.” As he spoke these words he was joined by a multitude of the heavenly hosts, all of them invoking and blessing God. And this song of their blending chorus filled the air: “Due glory be given to the Father in the highest heaven, and on earth a worthy peace attend men that are just.’’ With these words they immediately return to the throne of heaven. The shepherds come with haste and discover the Child in the depths of the manger. Thereupon other shepherds come in increasing numbers, and scatter afar the winged seeds of the fast-flying story. In their wonder they praise God, amazed with joy to find that everything is truly happening as foretold in the message they received during the night.

A far-distant nation there is, familiar with the rising sun and trained to observe the rising and the setting of the stars, whose chiefs have borne the name of Magi.

Princes chosen from their midst, after weary traveling, at length arrive at Jerusalem. They appear before the King and ask to be told what region in Judea holds in its domain the new-born Child. They claim that in obedience to an inspiration they have come all the way from a bright star’s rising to pay their humble worship to the adorable deity that has appeared in the world. The terrified Herod summons the most learned of the seers of

Jerusalem, who study the predictions of the ancient prophets, and bids them search all the books of the Law, from which it may be manifest what city is to be the birthplace of Christ, whose coming all the oracles promise.

Then it is revealed that it was decreed that in the city of Bethlehem He is to be born, who in His holy power is to rule His holy people Israel. Herod bids the Persians to continue their journey, and when they have found the

Child, to let him know, that he, too, may adore Him. And lo, going before them in the middle of their path, they again behold the star ploughing the ether with flames.

Over a roof it stops and points out to them the Child’s home bathed in radiance. With a great joy the Magi rejoice and hail the star. And when they saw the Child at the breast of its mother, falling down they prostrate themselves to the earth, and humbly they worship. Their threefold gifts, incense, gold, and myrrh, they then offer to Him that is king and man and God. Dreadful dreams disturb the long night and bid them avoid the cruel tyrant; and so, undiscovered, they return to their native land. Folly it is to watch over talents buried in the depths of the earth; for rust and destroying moths lord it over them, and thieves carry off your hoarded treasures from their dark hiding. Heap up for yourselves treasures in the high heavens; there neither rust nor moths nor quarreling thieves will find them. For where your treasure is hoarded, there also in like bondage will your hearts be.

Look over the rich fields, see how the lilies grow; and yet no toils ever wearied them. Not Solomon himself, when he sat in splendor on the throne of his mighty kingdom, was clothed in a garment of such beauty.

Now if God Himself clothes the smiling green of the shrubs and the fields, destined as they are for the furnace, why is not yours a stronger trust in the Father? Therefore as for food and drink and raiment and all vanities, leave ye the earthly anxiety for them to the unbelieving

Gentiles. But do ye rather fitly seek the heavenly kingdom and the justice of God,, freely will the rest come to you.

Let not tomorrow’s abundance be a source of worry to you.

Walk, ye just, through the narrow gate to the heavens.

How wide and ample the way which along the left ends its steep path in the darkness of death; yet countless numbers rush over it! But the path of life is blocked by huge rocks, and even exalted virtue guides but few through its difficult ways. But whomsoever of the wicked the smoothness of the way, all too deceitful and seductive and slippery in its dreadful decline, has enticed, them it seizes and rushes forth headlong like a mighty stream or like a swift-footed steed, that has broken and shaken off its bridle, or like a ship driving without pilot over the stormswept sea.

Selections from Book III

Some time later the disciples asked Him who was the greatest in the kingdom of heaven and by what merits [he had won this distinction]. Then Christ asked a little child to stand in the midst of their assembly, and with gentle voice He gave them this lesson: “Whoever would ascend to a high place in heaven, let him strive to be like this child. It must needs be that temptation to evil prevails in the world, but unhappy that man by whom the temptation cometh. For he that shall deceive one of these little ones, if he be wise, let him tie a millstone round his neck and hurl himself headlong into the depths of the sea.

Let not anyone in his pride despise these little ones, for their guardian angels in the heavenly home beyond the stars are ever gazing upon the countenance of the highthroned Creator.

“And if there be any shepherd, that has an hundred sheep browsing in the sheltered pasture, if haply harmless wandering should lead one of them astray from the fold, will he not leave them all and go in search of the one, and examine the paths of the whole forest? And if with much labor he succeeds in finding it, greater is his joy, then, for the lamb that is found than for all the rest of whom none went astray. So, too, the Creator will not suffer one of these little ones to be lost, and He rejoices to have them multiply in His kingdom.”

-Translated by J.W. Mackail

Corde natus ex parentius

Prudentius

Translated by R.F. Davis

Prudentius was a Roman Christian poet who lived during the middle of the 4th century A.D. In his early life he lived a public life as a moderately successful lawyer and a provincial governor. Later on he became an ascetic by abstaining from many forms of indulgence and focused on writing hymns and poetry in addition to works in defense Catholicism.

In his poetry, Prudentius was highly influenced by the works of the early Christian poets such as Turtullian and St. Ambrose in addition to the Bible. His works were so well received he is seen as one of the most popular medieval authors. His hymn “Corde natus ex parentius” revolves around the birth of Christ and is still in use today as a Christmas Carol. This poem heavily praises the omnipotence of God and Christ as the savior of humanity.

1. Of the Father’s heart begotten

Ere the world from chaos rose,

He is Alpha: from that Fountain,

All that is and hath been flows;

He is Omega, of all things

Yet to come the mystic Close,

Evermore and evermore.

2. By his word was all created;

He commanded and ’twas done;

Earth and sky and boundless ocean,

Universe of three in one,

All that sees the moon’s soft radiance,

All that breathes beneath the sun,

Evermore and evermore.

3. He assumed this mortal body,

Frail and feeble, doomed to die,

That the race from dust created

Might not perish utterly,

Which the dreadful Law had sentenced

In the depths of hell to lie,

Evermore and evermore.

4. O how blest that wondrous birthday,

When the Maid the curse retrieved,

Brought to birth mankind’s salvation,

By the Holy Ghost conceived,

And the Babe, the world’s Redeemer,

In her loving arms received,

Evermore and evermore.

5. This is he, whom seer and sybil

Sang in ages long gone by;

This is he of old revealed

In the page of prophecy;

Lo! he comes, the promised Saviour;

Let the world his praises cry!

Evermore and evermore.

6. Sing, ye heights of heaven, his praises;

Angels and Archangels, sing!

Wheresoe’er ye be, ye faithful,

Let your joyous anthems ring,

Every tongue his name confessing,

Countless voices answering,

Evermore and evermore.

7. Hail! thou Judge of souls departed;

Hail! of all the living King!

On the Father’s right hand throned,

Through his courts thy praises ring,

Till at lest for all offences

Righteous judgement thou shalt bring,

Evermore and evermore.

At the entrance into the Choir

8. Now let old and young uniting

Chant to thee harmonious lays

Maid and matron hymn thy glory,

Infant lips their anthem raise,

Boys and girls together singing

With pure heart their song of praise,

Evermore and evermore.

9. Let the storm and summer sunshine,

Gliding stream and sounding shore,

Sea and forest, frost and zephyr,

Day and night their Lord alone;

Let creation join to laud thee

Through the ages evermore,

Evermore and evermore. Amen.

-Translated by R.F. Davis

The Poems of St. Paulinus of Nola

Poem 10

St. Paulinus of Nola

Translated by P.G. Walsh

St. Paulinus in his early life was a Roman poet, scriptor and senator living from the middle of the 4th century to the middle of the 5th century A.D. He later abandoned his involvement in Roman public life and was baptized as a Christian after which he became the bishop of Nola in Campania. He was often held up by his contemporaries as a Christian example because he denounced his wealth and status for a life of charitable work and moderation.

The poetry of St. Paulinus was mainly dedicated to his predecessor, St. Felix of Nola, or consisted of letters he wrote to his contemporaries. Even as a senator St. Paulinus had a fondness for St. Felix even going so far as to construct a brand new basilica for Felix and his followers. Paulinus’ ornate style of poetry is much like that of other poets in the 5th century, and earned him the high regard of his contemporaries and were often used as educational models.

In Poem 10 of St. Paulinus, the influence of his early pagan life is prevalent. Here he writes to his friend Ausonius explaining his rejection of the pagan Muses and other Gods and his total dedication to Christ. He does this through elaborating the many virtues of Christ and the truth he found in Him. In a world where both paganism and Christianity are present this letter could be seen as particularly important to the early Christian cause.

Why, father, do you bid the deposed Muses return to my charge? Hearts dedicated to Christ reject the Latin Muses and exclude Apollo. Of old you and I shared common cause… in summoning deaf Apollo from his cave at Delphi, invoking the Muses as deities, seeking from groves or mountain ridges that gift of utterance bestowed by divine gift. But now another power, a greater God, inspires my mind and demands another way of life. He asks back from man His own gift, so that we may live for the Father of life. He bids us not spend our days on the emptiness of leisure and business, or on the fictions of literature, so that we may obey His laws and behold His light which is clouded by the clever powers of philosophers, the skill of rhetoricians, and the inventions of poets. These men steep our hearts in what is false and empty. They form only men’s tongues, and bring nothing to bestow salvation or to clothe us in the truth. What good, what truth can they possess who do not have the Head of all, God who is the Kindling and the Source of truth and goodness, whom no man sees except in Christ?

He is the Light of truth, the Path of life, the Power and Mind, Hand and Strength of the Father. He is the Sun of justice, Source of blessings, Flower of God, God’s Son, Creator of the world, Life of our mortality, and Death to our death. He is the Master of the virtues. He is God to us and became Man for us by stripping off His nature and assuming ours, forging eternal relations between man and God, while He Himself is both. So when He has flashed His rays over our hearts, He cleans the enfeebling foulness from our sluggish bodies and renews the dispositions of our minds. All that delighted us before He draws away, and in its stead leaves a pleasure that is chaste. By His rights as Lord He demands wholly our hearts, tongues, and heads. He wishes to be the object of our thought and understanding, our belief and reading, our fear and love. . . .

Psalm against the Donatists

St. Augustine of Hippo

Translated by J.W. Mackail

St. Augustine lived in the 4th and 5th centuries A.D., a contemporary of St. Paulinus of Nolas. He was an early Christian theologian and philosopher whose writings had a profound impact on the development of Western Christianity and philosophy. His most famous work, Confessions is an autobiographical work which outlines his conversion to Christianity and his sinful youth. In his youth his was influenced by the neo-Platonism of Plotinus and later as the Roman Empire began to fall apart he began asserting the idea of the Church as a City of God.

As a writer, St. Augustine is considered one of the most prolific Latin authors because so many of his works survive today. In his Psalm against the Donatists Augustine discusses the transgressions of the Christian sect of Donatists. Donatism was Christian sect founded in North Africa who set themselves against the Church in Rome. Augustine felt the separation of the Catholic community was highly detrimental. The tone of his psalm is deeply personal, often referring to himself, portraying him as a defender of the Church. In the psalm Augstine seems concerned with the mingling of the Donatists and the true Christians, believing those who are true Christians should come to the Church in Rome so that they not be confused with those who sacrificed to idols and put prophets to death.

All those of you who rejoice in peace now it is time to judge the truth….

Undoubtedly in days gone by there were holy men as Scripture tells,

For God stated that he left behind seven thousand men in safety,

And there are many priests and kings who are righteous under the law,

There you find so many of the prophets, and many of the people too.

Tell me which of the righteous of that time claimed an altar for himself?

That wicked nation perpetrated a very large number of crimes,

They sacrificed to idols and may prophets were put to death,

Yet not a single one of the righteous withdrew from unity.

The righteous endured the unrighteous while waiting for the winnower:

They all mingled in one temple but were not mingled in their hearts;

They said such things against them yet they had a single altar.

Come, brethren, if you wish to be engrafted in the vine.

It grieves us to see you thus lie cut off.

Number the priests in the very chair of Peter,

And see in that order of fathers who succeeded the other.

This is the rock which the proud gates of hell overcome not.

Grant me to know the revelations of the renowned books of the lawgiver Moses, the origin of the heavens and the beginnings of the world; how falsehood, spreading like a pestilence, completely wrecked the sacred faith and deeply infected men’s morals; how truth again returned, driving out profane rites and proclaiming the sacred mysteries of eternal life.

Hitherto I have told the sacred story of the world’s origin, without any fiction, as honest faith knows it, as long as the earth was free from the vices that were deserving of death. But now that I have begun to sing of man’s conduct and of things that are mortal, I may be allowed to weave the poet’s fiction into the story of faith… .

Thus were they praying when, with fear directing their gaze, they spied a serpent, an image of their betrayer, dragging itself along silently while the grass lightly quivered with its gliding movements. The sight arrested their attention and startled them; shaking them out of their listless paralyzing grief, it roused them to a kindred pitch of anger. Eve was the first to speak to her spouse: “If this chief cause of our misery has power to stir your soul, then snatch a rock, for, see, we have an opportunity to send to death the author of our death. This creature that so shamefully ruined both you and me, ought to be the first to show by its own suffering and cruel death; what a wretched thing it is to die.’’ When her speech was ended, they arm themselves with missiles to pursue the serpent that was swiftly escaping, and heave large stones at it. One of these, hurled with arm swung back at full length to impart a more powerful impetus, unerringly obeys their wishes and follows straight their eyes and aim. Glancing off from the serpent’s back, it rebounds on the hard, bare flint and evokes a spark that feeds on the dry tinder. In a moment curling wisps of flame appear as the glimmering fire spreads in every direction, until from the white-hot smoke bursts forth a brilliant flame. They shudder with fear, and with trembling steps they seek shelter; but wonder holds them spellbound in their terror and stirs the curiosity that betrays their human weakness. For, fearful though they are, they yet wish to see the dread happenings. At a safe distance on a ridge of sterile ground, they are awed at seeing the dense foliage of the forest crashing down, the sky blackened and obscured with ashes, the whole earth becoming aglow with a strange reflection from the lower sky. Not without alarm did they hear the shrill roaring of the whole forest, as swelling volumes of flames shot skyward; then, as the greedy fire burrowed its way deep down into the very heart of the lowest roots, the raw earth, vanquished by the intense penetrating heat, burst open its mines in a flood of generous gifts; and though it had already been drained of every drop of water, it begins to become a Kquid itself, and to pour forth its various metals in separate streams. In a tawny torrent gleams the most valued of metals, gold; in glistening milk-white streams flows the silver; sluggish copper glides about smoothly; bluish iron ore loses its rigidity and melts into a soft mass. So Aetna, bursting his furnaces, belches forth hissing sulphur and flames. As long as the heat lasts, they continue to flow, but as soon as they feel the cooling effect of the stirring breeze, they congeal; the cooling liquid quickly changes into a glowing, stiffening mass and, as the fire dies, it becomes a solid body.

With wonder they behold the different streams cease their flow; even while the heat is still slowly failing, they already gaze with greedy eyes and become fascinated by the tempting color; what was an object of fear they now desire.

They recognize that it is the help of God, and they rejoice that, though no particular act of virtue had followed upon their transgression, yet their first prayer had been heard; and so to the Father most high they ascribe the gift, the fire itself with all its blessings and the understanding by which He revealed to them the fire’s usefulness. Of both these facts I am certain, that our parents explored the sacred gift, eagerly examining everything with their eyes, but reached out for the precious gold first of all, for its glitter even then caught their eyes, and the brilliance of the priceless vein captivated them; nor were they satisfied until, its heavy weight proving too much for them, it slipped from their hands, and falling upon a sharp-pointed stone became bent, thus teaching them that a slight blow would cause it to change its shape. A new curiosity suddenly comes upon them, whets their surprised minds, and urges them to apply the lesson this accident taught them.

With a heavy stone they take turns at pounding it, and bend and draw into various shapes the mass that yields readily to their blows. It is no labor at all to do this, but, when put to use, it quickly loses its shape, because the material, being unequal to any great effort, is docile to their eager purpose, but fails them when put to use. So they look for a harder substance. But for this, too, they love the gold, that it taught them that the harder metal is the more useful. Then as its beauty is next to that of gold, they go to the second vein, the silver, which is harder than the tempting gold and hence better fitted for service.

But copper is harder still, though the least in appearance. In a short time, with the lesson of the copper before them, practical experience rests satisfied when it has reached the rigid steel.

As long as the descendants of Adam, now increased by many generations, steadfastly observed the holy law of God and believed in the one Lord of heaven and earth, all creation, the ponderous earth, the waters of the sea, and the life-giving air, were submissive to the virtuous wishes of man. They had no need of. any systematic training, for their heavenly teacher instructed them in everything. But when the world went astray into sin, and everywhere plunged into the deepest vices, the cursed sons of men lost this wonderful blessing and, forgetting their God, they were not ashamed to fashion to themselves many gods; so great an evil is it to forget the heavenly Father.

The first to fall into this heinous crime was Nimrod, of all men the most impious, born of the slave seed of Cham, a giant in stature and intellect, who ruled over the realms of Babylon. This iniquitous hunter, luring the Persians from the sacred truths of the Lord, led them to the worship of fire. And that arch enemy of mankind [Satan], the source of all wickedness, in his unbounded ambition not only made sport of the sorrows of men with this cunning deception, but forced his way into their minds, took full possession of all their senses, and eventually even of their hearts. For when Nimrod’s only son carried with him to the bitter grave the hope of perpetuating his line, the father was wretched, weeping continually night and day, and voicing his grief in bitter lamentations. While he raved about and sought everywhere the son that was taken from him, he found consolation in his grief and sorrow by having an image of him carved in Parian marble. The unhappy man imagined that this statue of his child had life and feeling and could hear his lamentations. Soon altars were built and dedicated to it, and all were ordered to revere it as a god. Before long all the nations embraced this crime and, following the sinful example, they honored as gods the parents they had loved. Later on kings arc given a like honor and are worshipped as gods, while lying

Greece, in an attempt to foist falsehood upon truth, with many silly arguments gave the same title to obscure shades, pointing in proof to the sepulchral mounds and to the names carved on the tombs. In the end the madness displayed itself in every possible way; on mere trifles, and even on objects of shame, the meaningless name of god was conferred, while the world laughed in derision.

Rapidly the tower rises, and soon its top pierces the clouds and basks in the near heaven’s calm. Then the

Father omnipotent, amazed at the mad deeds of the insolent mob, by a divine command convokes the heavenly senate, and thus He addressed the vassals of His realm:

“Behold the army of the earth! You see their rash ambition’s aim, the height to which their bold folly aspires, believing that structure of human hand can touch the lofty heaven’s vault and open a path to Our celestial realms; and this, though no one in earthly body clothed shall ascend to heaven, save Him who first from heaven shall descend. But as they are of one common stock with one universal language, they will persist in the building of this tower, nor will they cease until the task, in leagued conspiracy begun, shall be completed; so monstrous is the mad folly of man’s mind! Let them understand they may not dare what to their powers is denied. Come, let Us go down, and into hearts that are puffed up in haughty harmony let Us put discord by confusing their tongues, so that their sinful harmony in crime may find its fitting condemnation in the discord of confused tongues.”

His speech was ended; immediately in the midst of their all-absorbing task of rearing the massive tower, complete oblivion takes possession of their stunned faculties, and with it comes an unknown tongue’s halting speech. As zeal for the work wanes, the master builders upbraid the hesitating workers; but no one answers back to words he does not understand; if anyone tries, he only mutters meaningless sounds or gasps in raucous broken speech. And so frustrated, the hands forsake the futile work that was begun with sinful intention. Nobody now looks for his next of kin, no son for his father; but everyone attaches himself to the man he can understand and makes him his companion. For when blood relationships no longer hold, it is language that determines the clan. In equal groups they scatter, seeking far”-distant lands in different climes. Very much like birds that have been lured by a balmy sky to wander in a promiscuous group in search of food through the pleasant fields of the plain; at nightfall, when they seek the sheltering branches, the flock breaks up, and -each little band follows its own group, and, while intermingled in their rapid flight, it is the plumage and call that leads like to follow like. So, too, the people formerly one now separate, going in different directions. Each group becomes a new race, and settling in distant lands they fill the earth with its nations.

-Translated by J.W. Mackail

Eucharistos (Thanksgiving)

St. Paulinus of Pella

St. Paulinus of Pella was a 5th century Christian poet who endured a less than perfect life. From an early age Paulinus was more accustomed to speaking Greek than Latin even though Latin was technically his native tongue. He began his studies in the Greek classics and was introduced to Plato and Homer. Right when he started to advance in his studies he became ill which doctors suggested he treat with exercise, which ended his career as a student.

St. Paulinus then went on to marry an heiress and following shortly after his father died and a Germanic invasion occurred. After becoming the administrator of the imperial finances of the new leader Priscus Attalus, the house of St. Paulinus and his mother were both looted. After enduring all this, St. Paulinus’ family started to die. He survived his mother, wife and two sons; his only possible living family member was his daughter who was married and moved to North Africa.

At the end of his life, St, Paulinus sat down to write his autobiographical poem Eucharisticos where in just over 600 lines he gives thanks for his life as unpleasant as it may seem. His poem gives an account of what it was like to live in Gaul during that period. Even though St. Paulinus endured a difficult life he still offers up his thanks to the Lord for His guidance and ends the work by emphasizing his readiness to die finding comfort in the fact that when he dies he will be one with God. Although his world continually fell apart he still found salvation in God.

I know that among famous men there have been some who, in right of their brilliant qualities and to immortalise the eminence of their renown, have handed down to posterity a memoir of their doing compiled in their own words. Since I am of course as far removed from these in their outstanding worth as in point of time, it is certainly no similar reason and design which has induced me to put together a little work almost identical in subject; for I have neither any such brilliant achievements whereby I might hope to snatch some little gleam of fame, nor so great a confidence in my powers of expression as lightly to dare to challenge the work of any author. But — I am not ashamed to avow it — I, who in my lengthy pilgrimage have long languished in the misery of care-fraught idleness, have been led on, as I surely believe, by divine mercy to seek such consolations as befitted alike a good conscience in old age and a devout purpose; I mean that I, who indeed felt that I owed my whole life to God, should show that my whole life’s doings also have been subject to his direction; and that, by telling over the seasons granted me by his same grace, I should form a little work, a Thanksgiving to him, in the guise of a narrative memoir.  For I know indeed both that the care of his kindly mercy was about me, because in my early life I lacked not even the fleeting pleasures natural to mankind; and that in this part of it also the care of his providence has been before me, because, while reasonably chastising me with continual misfortunes, he has clearly taught me that I ought neither to love too earnestly present prosperity which I knew I might lose, nor to be greatly dismayed by adversities wherein I had found that his mercies could succour me.

4 Therefore, if ever this little work of mine should come into the hands of any, from the very title prefixed to the book he ought clearly to understand that this my little musing, which I consecrate to God Almighty, is a gift to my leisure, rather than to another’s pleasure; and that my prayer is rather that this my service, such as it is, may be accepted by God, than that my uncouth poem should win its way to the attention of the learned.  Nevertheless, if someone perchance more inquisitive than the ordinary should have so much leisure from his own affairs as to seek to learn the toilsome progress of my life, I wish to beg him — whether he find anything, or perhaps nothing, in my doings or in my verses which he can praise — yet to elect for the trampling of oblivion those very features which he has selected, rather than to commend them to the discernment of posterity.

A Thanksgiving to God in the Form of my Memoirs

Now as I make ready to tell o›er the bygone seasons of my years and to trace out the succession of past days through which I have sped with changeful fortunes, thee I implore, Almighty God, favourably to be nigh me and, breathing on my work, to prosper a design favoured by thee, in granting me sustainment in my task, attainment in my prayers, that by thy aid I may be worthy to run o’er the list of thy gifts. For all the seasons of my life I owe to thee ever since I drew in the breath of enlivening light, and, though oft tossed amid the storms of this inconstant world, under thy protection I grow old and in the course of my twelfth hebdomad of years have now seen six scorching solstices of the summer sun and as many winters’ frosts — this through thy gift, O God, who renewest the years of bygone time in repairing the course of the circling Ages. Be it permitted me, therefore, singing to record thy gifts in verse, and in setting forth of words also to pay thanks which, indeed, even when shut within the heart, we know are open to thee, but the fraught voice unbidden breaks through the barriers of the silent mind and reveals a fount of out-gushing prayer.

Thou in my infancy didst give my helpless frame strength to endure the hazards of travel by land and sea, that I — born at Pella, the nursery of King Alexander of old, near Salonika›s walls, where my father was vicegerent٣ of the illustrious Prefect — might be conveyed to the shores of another world, cut off by sea, entrusted to my nurses› trembling arms, and so across snowy ridges and torrent-riven ranges, across the main and the waves of the Tyrrhenian flood, might come to the far walls of Sidonian Carthage, ere yet the monthly moon in her ninth orbit since my birth filled her disk with renewed light. There, as I have learned, when thrice six months were passed under the proconsulship of my father, I was called back again to the sea and paths already tried, soon also to behold the famed bulwarks of all-glorious Rome on the world’s heights. All this which passed before me, though not even to be comprehended by my sense of sight but later learned through the careful report of those to whom these matters are well known, I have deemed worthy of mention in accordance with the purpose of my work.

But at length, the end of my long journeying reached, I was borne into the land of my forefathers and to my grandfather›s house, coming to Bordeaux where beauteous Garonne draws Ocean›s tidal waves within the walls through a ship-traversed portal which even now enfolds a roomy port within the roomy city›s barriers. Then also my grandfather, consul in that same year, was there first known to me in my first triennium. And after this period was outgrown, and when waxing power strengthened my feeble limbs and my mind, aware of its faculties, learned through wont to know the properties — so far as now… I can remember, I myself with due truth must needs narrate what is to be known concerning me.

But what else in my boyish years, which freedom, play, and blithesome youth seemed to have been able to commend to me by their own virtues, shall I more gladly dwell upon or more fitly dare to set in this little book which I fashion in verse, than affection’s work and my parents’ noble pains, skilled to season learning with mingled enticements, and their wise care, exercising due control, to instil into me the means of good living and on my untrained mind to bestow speedy development — almost along with my first steps in the alphabet itself to learn to shun the ten special marks of ignorance and equally to avoid vices anathematised? And albeit this discipline has long since fallen out of use through the corruption, doubtless, of the age, yet, I declare, the antique Roman fashion I observed delights me more, and the life natural to an old man is more tolerable therefor.

Full early, when the days of my first lustrum were well-nigh spent, I was made to con and learn the doctrines of Socrates, Homer›s warlike fantasies, and Ulysses› wanderings. And forthwith I was bidden to traverse Maro’s works as well, ere I well understood the Latin tongue, used as I was to the converse of Greek servants with whom long pursuit of play had made me intimate; whereby, I affirm, this was too heavy a task for me, a boy, to grasp the eloquence of works in an unknown tongue.

This double learning, as it is suited to more powerful minds and decks those skilled in it with a two-fold radiance, so its wide range soon drained dry the vein of my mind — too barren, as I now understand. So much now even despite me this my page reveals — a page ill-judged, indeed, which I unasked set forth to be read, yet, as I hope, not disgracing me in the matters whereof I seek to form a written record; for so my chaste parents careful taught me from my boyhood, lest some day the malignant tongue of any man might endanger my repute. And though this repute, well earned, still keeps the lustre due to it, yet with this higher grace would it then have adorned me, if with my hopes in early life my parents’ hopes had continued to agree in this respect, namely, that forever they should keep me as thy child, O Christ, more rightly making this the aim of their love for me — that by brief sacrifice of the present joys of the flesh I might win endless reward in the world to come. But — since I now am bound to believe that this has more profited me which thou, O God, almighty, everlasting, hast shown to have been thy will by renewing to me, though sinful, thy gifts of life — so much the greater thanks I now owe thee on my behalf, as I perceive the greater guilt of my transgressions. For both I know that — whatever deed blameworthy or act unlawful I have unwarily committed, straying through life’s treacherous seasons — thou in thy mercy canst wholly forgive, ever since scorning my fallen self I fled back to thy obedience; and, if ever I have been able to shun any sins which, committed, would bring me greater guilt, this too I feel that I have gained through Heaven’s bounty.

But I return to my course and to the seasons I passed through at the time when, wrapt in study and in learning, I gladly fancied to myself that already I felt some of the desired outcome of my pains lavished under the constant care of Greek and Latin tutors both, and I should also have gained, perchance, a meet return, had not a sharp quartan fever, suddenly falling upon me, defrauded my willing efforts in learning, when the fifth triad of my life was scarce completed. But when my parents’ love for me was stricken with alarm at this — seeing they deemed more urgent the recovery of my enfeebled body than the training of my tongue in eloquence, and as physicians from the first advised that continual gaiety and amusement should be devised for me — my father was so eager by his own efforts to secure this end that, though of late he had laid by his wont of hunting zealously (‘twas indeed for my studies’ sake alone, that he might not hinder them by making me the companion of his pastimes, nor without me ever enjoy his delight alone), on my account he returned to it with greater interest, renewing all means this sport affords, in hope that thereby I might woo health. These pursuits, long continued during the slow period of my sickness, caused in me a distaste for study, thenceforward chronic, which persisting afterwards in time of health, harmed me when love of the false world made way and the too pliant fondness of my parents gave way, charmed with delight at my recovery.

Wherefore, as my growth, so my waywardness increased, readily settling down to the pursuit of youthful desires — as to have a fine horse bedecked with special trappings, a tall groom, a swift hound, a shapely hawk, a tinselled ball, fresh brought from Rome, to serve me in my games of pitching, to wear the height of fashion, and to have each latest novelty perfumed with sweet-smelling myrrh of Araby. Likewise when I recall how, grown robust, I ever loved to gallop riding a racing steed, and how many a headlong fall I escaped, ‘tis right I should believe I was preserved by Christ’s mercy; and pity ‘tis that then I knew it not by reason of the world’s thronging enticements.

As I was wavering betwixt such interests and my parents› wishes which were set constantly upon the renewal of their line through me, at length, late for my time of life, I felt new fires and broke out into the pleasures of harmful wantonness which, as a boy, I used to think I could easily avoid. Howbeit, so far as wilful wantonness could be curbed and bridled with prudent restraint, lest I should heap heavier offences on my faults, I checked my passions with this chastening rule: that I should never seek an unwilling victim, nor transgress another’s rights, and, heedful to keep unstained my cherished reputation, should beware of yielding to free-born loves though voluntarily offered, but be satisfied with servile amours in my own home; for I preferred to be guilty of a fault rather than of an offence, fearing to suffer loss of my good name. Yet even this also among my doings will I confess: one son I know was born to me at that time — though neither he then (since he soon died), nor any bastard of mine afterwards, was ever seen by me — when freedom, allied with lusty youth’s allurements, might by gaining mastery have more gravely harmed me, hadst not thou, O Christ, even then had care for me.

Such was the life I led from about my eighteenth year, and so continued until my second decade›s close, when my parents› anxious care forced me, unwillingly, I admit, to give up this state, grown easy through soft custom, and drove me by way of change to mate with a wife, whose property was rather glorious for its ancient name than for the present a portion potent to please, because of the sore anxiety it involved, as long uncared for through the lethargy of its aged lord, to whom, surviving her own father’s death, a young grandchild succeeded — she who afterwards acceded to wedlock with me. But once I was resolved to bear the toil laid upon me, youth’s zeal seconding my mind’s desire, in but few days I was content to enjoy the pleasures of the estate thus gained, and soon forced both myself and my thralls to exchange seductive idleness for unwanted toils — inciting such as I could by the example of my own labour, but compelling some against their will with a master’s sternness. And so, tirelessly bent upon the pursuits of the condition I had adopted, forthwith I hastened to bring fallowed lands under tillage, and promptly to lavish pains in renewing the exhausted vineyards in the manner I had learned, and also — though to many a one this seems especially vexatious — by voluntarily paying down outright my taxes at the appointed time, I rapidly earned for myself an assured leisure to lavish afterwards upon my own relaxation. This was ever too much prized by me, and though at first it was conformable with my nature which then sought but moderate satisfaction, later it became luxurious and estranged from high purpose, only concerned that my house should be equipped with spacious apartments and at all times suited to meet the varying seasons of the year, my table lavish and attractive, my servants many and those young, the furniture abundant and agreeable for various purposes, plate more preeminent in price than poundage, workmen of divers crafts trained promptly to fulfil my behests, my stables filled with well-conditioned beasts and, withal, stately carriages to convey me safe abroad. And yet I was not so much bent on increasing these same things as zealous in preserving them, neither too eager to increase my wealth nor a seeker for distinctions, but rather — I admit — a follower of luxury, though only when it could be attained at trifling cost and outlay and without loss of fair repute that the brand of prodigality should not disgrace a blameless pursuit. But while I found all these things sweet and pleasant to enjoy, my great affection for my parents, dearer still, outweighed them, so binding me to them with the stronger bands of overmastering love that for the most part of the year my visits put me at their service — visits which passed their length accordant with our prayers, winning through mutual joys a general gain.

Of this life would that the enjoyment granted by Christ›s rich bounty had continued longer for us, the former times of peace enduring likewise! In many ways could my youth have profited by frequent application of my father›s spoken counsel and by the growth in my training won from his good example! But after the third decade of my life was passed, there followed hopeless sorrow caused by a double burden — a general grief at public calamity, when foes burst into the vitals of the Roman realm, together with personal misfortune in the end and death of my father; for the last days which closed his life were almost continuous with the days when peace was broken. But for me the havoc wrought on my home by the ravage of the enemy, though great in itself, was much lighter when compared with boundless grief for my departed father, who made both my country and my home itself dear to me. For, indeed, by rendering kindness to each other in genuine affection, we so knit in our uneven ages, that in our agreement we surpassed friends of even ages. He, then, so dear a comrade and trusty chancellor, was withdrawn from me in the early season of my youth; and straightway succeeded bitter disagreement caused by my wilful brother, who sought to overthrow our father’s valid will, desiring to annul the special benefits therein granted to my mother; and to safeguard her caused me concern the greater as it was natural, my just endeavours being strengthened by this yet greater impulse of affection. Besides, luckless rumour of my means being spread abroad exposed me to be tossed by yet more misfortunes amid the enticing lures of empty ambition and its forfeits close-linked with sore dangers. And though their memory irks me, and I would fain leave these passages of long ago silently buried in their due oblivion, yet the comfort of thy good gifts realized through my misfortunes, call upon me, O Christ, to reveal them and to bring them forth to light from the depths of my heart, in declaring thy bounty gained after full measure of ills. For I soon learned through experience both what advantage the favour of the powerful, bestowed on me through thee, afforded, when ofttimes I was accredited unconsciously with my ancestor›s bright distinctions, ere yet I myself acquired such attributes of my own; and on the other hand what hindrance in the assaults of ill-will my patrons’ own ambitious aims and my own distinctions surely presented.

And on me particularly above all, who had a second country in the East — where indeed I was born and was also held to be an owner of great consequence — did misfortunes lay hold, yet such as were long my due; because, albeit reluctant, I was kept absent on a journey prolonged, first by the mere sluggish effort of my train, sometimes also by the conflicting wishes of my dear ones, and too often by the struggle of their resolves with my own wishes whenever their returning dread of an uncertain issue delayed by some perverse chance preparations already begun; and on the other hand because my nature was enticed by my habits of ease, my wonted repose, the many special comforts of my home — too full, alas! with all great and pleasant luxuries and every blessing in those rough days, and which alone at that time lacked a Gothic guest. This circumstance was followed not long afterwards by a disastrous result, namely that, since no particular authority protected it, my house was given up to be pillaged by the retiring horde; for I know that certain of the Goths most generously strove to serve their hosts by protecting them.

But on me, besides my lot in the condition just described, a fresh cause of greater trouble was also imposed; namely that in his general groping after empty consolations, the tyrant Attalus burdened me in my absence with an empty title of distinction, making me Count of Private Largesses, although he knew that this office was sustained by no revenue, and even himself had now ceased to believe in his own royalty, dependent as he was upon the Goths alone of whom already he had had bitter experience, finding with them protection at the moment of his life but not of his authority, while of himself he was supported neither by resources of his own nor by any soldiery. Wherefore ‘twas by no means the cause of that tottering tyrant, but, I declare, peace with the Goths that I pursued — peace which, at that time desired by the general consent of the Goths themselves, was soon after granted to others and, though purchased at a price, remains unregretted, since already in our state we see full many prospering through Gothic favour, though many first endured the full range of suffering, not least of whom was I, seeing that I was stripped of all my goods and outlived my fatherland. For when about to depart from our city at the command of their king Ataulf, the Goths, though they had been received peaceably, imposed the harshest treatment on us, as though subdued by right of war, by burning the whole city. There finding me — then a Count of that Prince, whose allies they did not recognise as their own — they stripped me of all my goods, and next my mother also, both of us overtaken by the same lot, for this one grace considering that they were showing us, their prisoners, mercy — that they suffered us to depart without injury; howbeit, of all the companions and handmaidens who had followed our fortunes none suffered any wrong at all done to her honour, nor was any assault offered, yet I was spared more serious anxiety by the divine goodness, to whom I owe constant thanks, because my daughter, previously wedded by me to a husband, was spared the general calamity by her absence for our country.

But not even this was the extreme limit of the sufferings we endured, as I have said: for when we were driven from our ancestral home and our house burned, straightway siege by the enemy overtook us in the neighbouring city of Bazas, which also was my forefathers’ native place, and, far more dangerous than the beleaguering foe, a conspiracy of slaves supported by the senseless frenzy of some few youths, abandoned though of free estate, and armed specially for the slaughter of the gentry. From this danger thou, O righteous God, didst shield the innocent blood, quelling it forthwith by the death of some few guilty ones, and didst ordain that the special assassin threatening me should without my knowledge perish by another›s avenging hand, even as thou hast been wont to bind me to thee with fresh gifts for which I might feel I owed thee endless thanks.

But in my alarm at the hap of so sudden a danger by which I saw I might be stricken down within the city, there entered into me — too fearful, I admit — a new error of judgment, leading me to hope that under the protection of the king, long since my friend, whose people were afflicting us with the long siege, I might be able to escape from the besieged city together with the large train of my dear ones: and yet this hope induced this attempt of mine, because I knew that ‘twas by the constraining will of the Gothic host that the king reluctantly oppressed our folk. So, purposing to investigate I set out from the city and hastened to the king, no man withstanding me, yet with greater cheer before I addressed my first words to the friend who, I thought, would be more favourable to me. But when I had closely examined as best I might the inwardness of the man’s intent, he declared he could not afford me protection if dwelling outside the city, avowing that it was no longer safe for him, having once seen me, to suffer me to return to the city on other terms than that he himself should presently be admitted with me into the city — for he knew that the Goths again meant me mischief, and he himself desired to break free from their influence. I was dumbfounded, I admit, with alarm at the terms proposed and with exceeding fear at the danger threatened, but by the mercy of God who always and everywhere is with them who beseech his aid, I presently regained my faculties and, albeit quaking, boldly set myself to foster in my interest the design of my still wavering friend, discouraging difficult conditions which I knew must be utterly rejected, but strongly pressing for instant attempt to secure the attainable.

These the far-sighted man speedily approved and adopted. Straightway, when he had for himself conferred with the leaders of the city, he so hastened on the business in hand as to complete it in a single night through the help of God, whosebounty he now enjoyed, thereby to help us and his own people. The whole throng of Alan women flocks together from all their abodes in company with their warrior lords. First the king›s wife is delivered to the Romans as a hostage, the king›s favourite son also accompanying her, while I myself am restored to my friends by one of the articles of peace, as though I had been rescued from our common enemy the Goths: the city’s boundaries are fenced round with a bulwark of Alan soldiery prepared for pledges given and received to fight for us whom they, lately our enemies, had besieged. Strange was the aspect of the city, whose unmanned walls were compassed on every side with a great throng of men and women mixed who lay without; while, clinging to our walls, barbarian hosts were fenced in with waggons and armed men. But when they saw themselves thus shorn of no slight portion of their host, the encircling hordes of ravaging Goths, straightway feeling they could not safely tarry now that their bosom friends were turned to mortal enemies, ventured no further effort, but chose of their own accord to retire hurriedly. And not long after our allies also, above named, followed their example and departed, though prepared to maintain loyally the peace made with the Romans wherever the chance which befell might have carried them. Thus did a great business, rashly commenced by me, result in a happy issue through the Lord’s kindly aid, and God turned my misjudgment into fresh joys in the deliverance of many from the siege along with me — all which things increase my debt of thanks to thee, O Christ; which knowing not how to discharge, I repay in some measure in words by declaring my continual indebtedness.

But let it suffice that I have said so much on what I did during the long period when I was exposed amid barbarous peoples. Through them I suffered so numerous reverses as again convinced me, lingering still, that I should leave my country with all speed possible (and to have done so earlier had been more profitable for me), to make my way directly to that land where a large part of my mother›s property still remained intact, scattered among full many states of Greece and Epirus the Old and New; for there the extensive farms, well-manned by numerous serfs, though scattered, were not widely separated and even for a prodigal or careless lord might have furnished means abundant. But not even at this stage did success follow my hope, either to be able to depart hence to the land I longed for, or to recover some part of my grandfather›s property dispersed partly through the ravages of barbarians acting by the laws of war and partly through the iniquity of the Romans, proceeding wantonly and in defiance of all laws to my hurt at various times. Of this guilt even persons dear to me cannot rid themselves; and ‹tis the chief cause of my pain, since upon hurt to my substance is heaped hurt to that affection which I feel I owe inviolate, however slighted, to my nearest kin, and which I deem it sinful not to render. But if I am truly wise, I should now rejoice in this lot of mine which thou, O Christ, didst approve, since thou dost prepare for me far better things now than when, more free from care, I fancied that thy approval furthered my hopes; when my house was gay and prosperous in the great abundance of its luxury; and when the pageantry of my rank flourished no less in its setting of deferential crowds and throngs of supporting clients. That in those days I loved such things, quickly doomed to perish, I now regret, and with perception improving with old age I recognise at last that to my profit they were withdrawn from me, that by the loss of earthly and failing riches I might learn to seek rather those which will endure for ever. ‘Tis late, indeed, but nought, O God, is ever late with thee who, continuing without end, knowest not how to make an end of pity, and knowest how to aid those who unaided know not how, by anticipating the prayers of many ere they ask, and by providing good things for us beyond what we seek — and who to the misguided also, whatso each one prays for himself, dost refuse full many a request, though ready to grant things more expedient to those wise enough to prefer thy gifts to their own wishes. For how much better than I myself thou didst know me and my character thou didst prove in preventing me when, foreseeing that I was venturing on a task beyond my strength, though of thyself didst take better measure for me by thwarting my designs which aimed too high in venturing to live after the perfect pattern of a monk, though my home was full of dear relatives who seemed to have the right to claim for themselves continuance of my wonted care — sons, mother, wife’s mother, wife, with the considerable company of their attendants: for to expose all these together to the strangeness of a foreign land neither reason, nor affection, nor religious feeling would allow. But thy mighty hand divine and foreseeing power directed all things through the counsel of the saints, who then urged me to follow the ancient custom which, once introduced by the tradition of our forefathers, our Church still retained and held. So when I had confessed such deeds as I knew needed repentance, I set myself to live under the discipline of a set rule — not, as it chanced, atoning for my sins by any meet penance, but, though of myself not without knowledge to keep the right faith, by learning the paths of error through corrupt doctrines, which now I reject and repudiate along with my other faults. But afterwards, when now I had passed thrice five triennd and Easter duly came round at its appointed season, to thy holy altar, Christ my God, I returned, and through thy mercy joyfully received thy Sacrament — thrice ten and twice four years ago. Then also still unbroken were the ranks of my own family which I now found I could not leave and yet could not continually maintain, now that my foreign income was curtailed. But from seeking out my own property — whose value and position, I recall, was set forth by me in a previous passage — I was hindered by my wife who stubbornly refused to yield for our general good, refusing from undue fear to make the voyage; and I held it right for me not to tear her away anywhere against her will, and no less wrong to leave her, tearing her children from her.

Thus disappointed in my brightening hopes of enjoying repose on my own property after so many misfortunes, I now spend my days in perpetual exile with varying fortunes, long since deprived of my dear ones. For first my wife›s mother and my mother died; then my wife also, who, when she lived, thwarted my natural hopes through the hindrance of her fears, and in her death caused me grief in being reft from me at a time when her life, if continuous with mine, might have been more serviceable in affording my old age consolations which now it lacked, as my sons left me. These went, not with like aims, indeed, nor at the same time; but both alike were fired with the desire for freedom which they thought they could find in greater measure at Bordeaux, albeit in company with Gothic settlers. And though I grieved that their desires thus ran counter to my own, yet I thought that this same thing would so be made up to me that their care while present in Bordeaux would advance the interests of their absent father, namely, by gradually sharing with me of their own will the income of our property, such as it might be. But soon was one — a youth, yet already a priest — hurried off untimely by a sudden death, leaving me bitter sorrow; while all such of my possessions as he held were wholly torn from me by the single act of many robbers. Moreover, he also, who was left as though to console me, ill-starred alike in his course and its consequence, experienced both the king’s friendship and his enmity, and after losing almost all my goods came to a like end.

When thus all hope of that solace, which I thought I might gain through my family, was withdrawn, finding, though late, that all things we desire are rather to be sought of thee, O bounteous God, with whom all power rests, I chose at length to settle awhile at Marseilles, a city where indeed were many saints dear to me, but only a small property, part of my family estate. Here no fresh revenues were like to give rise to great hopes — no tilth tended by appointed labourers, no vineyards (on which alone that city relies to procure from elsewhere every necessary of life), but, as a refuge for my loneliness, only a house in the city with a garden near, and a small plot, not destitute of vines, indeed, and fruit-trees, but without land without tillage. Yet the outlay of a little toil induced me to lavish pains in tilling the vacant part — scarce four full acres— of my exhausted land, and to build a house upon the crest of the rock, lest I should seem to have reduced the extent of soil available. Further, for the outlay which the needs of life demand, I made it my hope to earn them by renting land, so long as my house remained well stocked with slaves, and while my more active years furnished me with undiminished strength. But afterwards, when my fortunes in a world ever variable changed for the worse in both these respects, by degrees, I admit, I was broken down by troubles and by age: so as a wanderer, poor, bereaved of my loved ones, I readily inclined to new designs, and, greatly wavering betwixt various purposes, thought it profitable to return to Bordeaux. Yet my efforts did not attain success; though expediency seconded my prayers allied with it. This I may lawfully believe to have been ordained by thee, O Christ, for the strengthening of my faith, as I suppose, that by prolonged experience I might gradually find out how far thy favour could avail me, when, though deprived of means through countless losses, I still saw the semblance of a house always remained to me, and my means ofttimes replenished by thy providence. For this lot, indeed, I know I owe thee boundless thanks, O God; yet on my own account I know not whether I can rejoice with a full self-respect — because, whether in occupying a house in semblance still my own, or in contentedly resigning to my wealthy sons all that can still be thought of as my own, I suffer myself to be supported at others’ charges— did not our faith come to my aid, teaching that nothing is our own; so that we may as surely consider others’ goods to be ours, as we are bound to share our own with others.

Yet in this same state of life thou didst not suffer me long to drowse in doubt, but unasked, O God, didst speedily deign to comfort me; and — ever wont to soothe with gentle remedies my old age weakened at various times with divers sicknesses — now also thou didst enable it to grow young again. For when thou hadst shown I could no longer hope for further profit from my grandfather’s property; and when all that also which in my poverty I was able to hold at Marseilles was retained by me under the terms of a written contract, the freehold now being lost — thou didst raise up for me a purchaser among the Goths who desired to acquire the small farm, once wholly mine, and of his own accord sent me a sum, not indeed equitable, yet nevertheless a godsend, I admit, for me to receive, since thereby I could at once support the tottering remnants of my shattered fortune and escape fresh hurt to my cherished self-respect.

Rejoicing in my enrichment with this exceeding gift, to thee, Almighty God, I owe fresh thanks, such as may almost overwhelm and bury all those preceding, whereof each page of mine holds record. And although my constant devotion, grown too lengthy, has o’erspread its wide limits this while past, and almost calls itself to halt; yet it knows not how to make an end of dwelling on the gifts I owe to thee, O Christ. This I make my only good, this I feel must be held fast, this with my whole heart I long to secure — in all places everywhere and at all times continually, in utterance to tell of thee, and in silence to remember thee. Wherefore — owing all myself to thee, O God most excellent, and all things that are mine — as I began this work from thee, so in finishing it I end to thee; and while I have often prayed thee earnestly, now much more fervently I beseech thee — seeing that in this decrepit age which I now spend I see nought more to be feared but death itself, and cannot readily descry what further I can desire — whichever way thy will inclines, grant me, I pray, a heart unflinching in the face of any sorrow, and make it steadfast by the gift of thy power; that I who long have lived obedient to the laws approve and seek to win thy promise of salvation, may not too greatly dread the hour of death — now nearer by reason of my advanced age, though every season of life is subject to him. And at the crisis of my changeful life may no idle chances — for these, I trust, may be avoided under thy leadership, O God — distress me with misdoubtful fears; but whatever lot awaits me at my end let hope of beholding thee, O Christ, assuage it, and let all fearful doubts be dispelled by the sure confidence that alike while I am in this mortal body I am thine, since all is thine, and that when released from it I shall be in some part of thy body.

Commonitorium

Orientius

Orientius was a Christian Latin poet during the 5th century. Not born a Christian, Orientius was baptized later in life and went on to become a pastor.

In his work Orientius explains in 1,036 verses the path to heaven. The emphasis on salvation and the work reflects the disarray of Gaul during his time. With Gaul having been invaded by barbarians, a clear path to salvation was necessary. Once again people could find security in God even when it seemed like the world around them was falling apart.

Whoever desires to reach speedily the rewards of eternal life that will endure rather than perish,

Learn to know the road that leads to the open gates of heaven, that banishes death, avoids pitfalls and runs along a smooth path.

Lend me your close and undivided attention, then; for 1 am to teach you the true life, the life that you must learn to know.

But that the doctrine of this unpretentious book may be more correct, and that my song may observe a due order in expounding the truth,

With heart and voice we wish to invoke Thee, omnipotent God, nor shall we unleash the tongue without calling on Thee, 0 Christ;

For Thou removest the darkness and restorest sight to the blind; Thou dost imp art, hearing to ears that are deaf;

Thou drivest away the cruel diseases of body and soul;

Thou dost graciously loosen the lips that are speechless;

In Thy dominion is the faculty of our heart and of our tongue; grant me, then, the gift of wisdom, grant me the gift of speech;

Grant that Thy good gifts may inspire my tongue that through thee my song of thee may be acceptable to thee… .

First of all you must know that the Lord has bestowed on man together with the gift of reason a twofold life,

So that, as the animal body is of earthly structure, and as the soul on the contrary is vivified by the breath of God,

The span of existence of the soul is conscious of no limitation, whereas its life in the fragile body is but short.

The purpose of his being confers this one endowment beyond all others on man; cherish this life, then, and try to attain it by your personal merits.

Birth and a long life are not within our control; the present life, however, can prepare for the life that is to come.

And though we receive both at God’s good pleasure, neither would be ours unless God so ordained.

The first of these swiftly runs its rapid course, but the one that follows will endure for all times.

Into the first we come unconscious and without all merits, the second comes to us as the fruit of hard toil.

We are born in order to seek the Lord of heaven and of earth and of the sea with ever-watchful zeal;

We seek Him in order to know His nature, His essence,

His deeds, with the knowledge of true discernment.

We learn to know Him so that when found we may worship Him with due praise; and we worship Him that He may give us life eternal… .

Cling to the Lord with thy whole soul, with all thy strength; and with all thy heart love Him as thy God.

This is thy duty; for what more just return can you ever make for all the blessings with which He has endowed you?

For when He might have left you in the slime of the earth, He rescued you from being mere earth for all times;

He gave you your body’s members, the control of your movements, the gift of speech, the wisdom of reason;

And all this in His goodness He bestowed before any merit of your own, for he is not only Lord of your soul and body, but He is also your Father.

And not content with this liberality by which he endowed you with a body and its wonderful senses,

He that gave you life, also lavished on you the comforts of life, so that you might enjoy its pleasures.

Behold, for you the vault of heaven is poised, the earth is spread out before you; for you the skies are balanced, and the ocean’s waves ever roll.

Day and night and the months of the year succeed each other; for you the sun’s splendor, the brilliance of the stars and the moon’s ruddy glow;

Spring pours out its abundance of beautiful flowers, summer is warming the soil that is teeming with fruitful harvest;

Autumn is drenched with wine and with the oil of the olive; winter is a stranger to cold as long as the hearthfire is blazing.

The roof overhead protects you from showering rains, and the thick walls allow you to defy the storming winds.

Shearing the shaggy wool from the fleece-bearing sheep, you wrap your chilled body in soft warm garments.

Finer cloths, too, there are of snow-white linen, and silken veils from the Orient; the first is yielded

To you by the fertile earth for the seed you have scattered, the second is plucked from the lofty tree by the

Chinaman.

In fine, whatever you possess in the course of the year, a loving God has given it all.

The plain is ripening for the harvest, the hills are clothed with foliage; luscious fruits of all kinds you may pluck from the trees;

And if in foresight you have given some attention to your fruitful garden, whenever you wish you may gather wholesome vegetables… .

For all these wonderful gifts bestowed on you by God’s liberality, what worthy return does your grateful love inspire?

What riches or gifts can you give in return for them, or with what eminent service will you be able to repay Him?

And yet, it is not this that God, to whom all things belong, yearns for; he is satisfied if the servant whom he loves, returns his love.

And this is the precept that follows after the first one, that your neighbor be regarded by you as your own self.

Hence arises that deservedly beautiful maxim, which unites the whole human race in one common brotherhood:

Never do unto others what you would not have them do to you, and do unto others as you wish them to do unto you.

What man, woman or child of whatever race or creed, is there, that does not admit that this is right, that it is easy?

What precept is not included in the wide scope of this simple maxim? Could man’s duty be more fully or more briefly stated?

No need here of explanation, no need of learned teachers; we of ourselves know what is good and what is evil… .

I realize, dear reader, that you have been silently saying to yourself for some time: All this is true enough, but your precepts are hard to obey.

Yes, a difficult task is prescribed for us, to climb from earth to heaven; there is no reason why you should think this can be done with little effort.

For the task is indeed a great one, but the reward too is great for the toil. Let him that entertains hopes for the reward banish all indolence.

No one receives the palm of victory except after the struggle; only to the winner is the coveted crown given… .

But granting what rarely happens, that you have persuaded the doorkeeper with bribes and entreaty to have, him say, “You may come in”;

You enter humbly with downcast look and flattering tongue; yet all that will avail you nothing.

Every political advancement has its price; you will advance in proportion to the bulge of your purse, whether you present your petition on parchment or paper or tablets of wax;

For if your hand is not filled with ready coin, your effort is fruitless; if you give only promises, you too will receive only promises.

See, honor laughs derisively, for it is her custom to give favors reluctantly, but to recall them with haste.

For what you have given, a second and a third will give; and what may covet is never long the possession of anyone.

See how suddenly death has overwhelmed the whole world, what mighty nations the violence of war has shattered.

Neither depth of forests nor inaccessible mountains nor powerful streams with their mighty torrents,

No fortress impregnable in its position, no cities protected with walls, nor pathless sea nor solitude of desert,

No cove or caverns under gloomy crags were able to escape the barbarian hordes.

For many treachery, for others perjury, for others political treason was the cause of death.

Many were the victims of secret plots, many of open violence, and where force failed, starvation vanquished them.

Husband and wife died miserably with their infant babe; master and slave were put under the same yoke.

Some were thrown to devouring dogs; many others found in their burning homes their death and their funeral pyre.

In houses and homes, on farms and the crossroads of every village, in all the streets, everywhere

Death and sorrow, destruction and slaughter, conflagration and moaning; all Gaul is one huge smoking funeral pyre… .

But you that have now read this book, whatever your opinion of its merit, be mindful of me.

Let me be on your tongue as often as you call upon

Christ the Lord in prayer after reading this poem… .

So that Orientius may bring all sinners to repentance, and merit the pardon of God [for his own sins] through the prayers of the saints.

“De Laudibus Dei”

Book I

Dracontius

Dracontius found success as a Christian poet in the later half of the 5th century. He was part of a distinguished family in Carthage and as a result was well educated. He practiced as a lawyer in his country until the Vandal conquest. Originally, Dracontius was allowed to keep his property but this right was taken away from him because he did not celebrate the triumphs of the Vandal king and was subsequently thrown into jail.

While in prison he composed what many consider his most important work “De laudibus dei” which is about God. The work is comprised of three book the first of which deals mainly with the Creation and the Fall of Man, the second with the benevolence of God as shown through the preservation and redemption of the world, and the third with God’s interactions with man. Here is a section of the creation story, which discusses the third day of the Creation where God created the land and the birds.

The third day brought into view the blue waters of the deep. In huge waves the dark mass begins to surge, and the expansive sea is tossing with foaming billows. That same day was the time appointed for the separation of land and water. The earth is now wrenched up from the vast depths in which it is immersed, and growing denser as its globe solidifies, it is poised in empty space, while its axis spins the heavens’ dome; the waves of the sea are its foundation. Solid earth is next wrung from the heart of the waters, which stagnating floods deposit as sediment; it is soil material, but not yet productive of life. Some of it breaks up into sands, some molds itself into loam; some develops into masses of stone, and cliffs, of towering height appear; some holds rivers within their channels or forms broad expansive plains, or shapes the curving coasts; some of it is heaped up in hillocks of earth and other some in bristling rocks; a fixed portion of it hardens into walls of cragged rock flanked by deep chasms, while on the highest ridge of mountain range are piled hills higher still; and rolling plains are formed with flowing fountains of sweet water. Blades of grass now appear, and every variety of sprout reaches up into the air. The olive, ever green, displays a richer foliage; flowering trees bring forth every kind of fruit without labor. The laurel unfolds its leaves, the prize in times to come for the poet’s gift of eloquence. The vine stalk, twisted by its winding tendrils, hangs in looping festoons, while its waving flail-like sprouts lash the supporting tree’s branches. All the land is in bloom and redolent with the fragrance of flower and blossom. The earth, the one mother of all, not satisfied with one common gift, gives to every plant its distinctive variety to blend in this profusion of fragrance.

“And God created … every winged fowl according to its kind.”—Genesis I, 21.

Then all the birds leaped into life with joy;

In whirring flight their fluttering wings they try,

Or pour forth songs of sweetest melody.

I think they praised the Lord, as well they might,

To thank him for endowing them with life.

Some glisten white like snow; empurpled some;

Of saffron hue these plumes, of yellow gold

Those feathers gleam; the wings of some with eyes

Minute are speckled o’er, while throat and breast

With shimmering iridescence glow; these boast

A crested top, and these the gift of song;

A lyric voice retrieves the pygmy size.

Trees are clothed in foliage of freshest green, nests of noisy fledgelings are in evidence, and all the woodland resounds with a chattering medley of voices; while the motherbird, on motionless wings wheels about in soaring flight, then lights upon a branch, and with claws firmly clinging to the branch, sways calmly in the breeze with the bough.

After marveling at the day’s wonders, they imagine that the sun is setting never to return. They find consolation for the gloomy darkness in the mild light of the [moon], and every one of the stars they observe twinkling in the sky.

But when they perceive the dawn with his trembling radiance rising from the purple sea, and flamelike rays leaping forth, and then the sky above the stars growing fiery red from the returning sun, then their imagination dwells on the joys of yesterday that are to be repeated; understanding now the alternations of time, they begin to look forward expectantly for the coming of the day with its daily sunshine, and they worry no more over the darkness.

Alethia

Book II and Book III

Claudius Marius Victor

Not much is known about Claudius Marius Victor. He was a 5th century Christian poet well educated in the Latin classics and, according to some, insufficiently educated in Christian rhetoric. His work Alethia is a metrical paraphrasing of Genesis starting at the creation of the world to the destruction of Genesis comprising of three books. The work is supposedly unfinished and was written in the hope of improving the minds of the young. The work was influenced by the works of the Roman poets Lucretius, Ovid and Virgil and attempts to portray themes of the Latin epic.

In Book II Claudius depicts the Fall of Man. Following this he describes the moment when God answered Adam and Eve’s first prayers even though it follows directly after their transgression against him. God appears to guide them even though they had not yet done anything to redeem themselves. Following this story, in Book III, Claudius tells of the time when the world falls into disarray and sin and people forgot who their true god was. Here he focuses on the story of Nimrod in Babylon who lead people to worship false idols and things other than the one true God. In Claudius’ account Nimrod is also associated with starting the creation of the Tower of Babel and thus responsible for the separation of people throughout the world.

Selections from Book II

Hitherto I have told the sacred story of the world’s origin, without any fiction, as honest faith knows it, as long as the earth was free from the vices that were deserving of death. But now that I have begun to sing of man’s conduct and of things that are mortal, I may be allowed to weave the poet’s fiction into the story of faith… .

Thus were they praying when, with fear directing their gaze, they spied a serpent, an image of their betrayer, dragging itself along silently while the grass lightly quivered with its gliding movements. The sight arrested their attention and startled them; shaking them out of their listless paralyzing grief, it roused them to a kindred pitch of anger. Eve was the first to speak to her spouse: “If this chief cause of our misery has power to stir your soul, then snatch a rock, for, see, we have an opportunity to send to death the author of our death. This creature that so shamefully ruined both you and me, ought to be the first to show by its own suffering and cruel death what a wretched thing it is to die.’’ When her speech was ended, they arm themselves with missiles to pursue the serpent that was swiftly escaping, and heave large stones at it. One of these, hurled with arm swung back at full length to impart a more powerful impetus, unerringly obeys their wishes and follows straight their eyes and aim. Glancing off from the serpent’s back, it rebounds on the hard, bare flint and evokes a spark that feeds on the dry tinder. In a moment curling wisps of flame appear as the glimmering fire spreads in every direction, until from the white-hot smoke bursts forth a brilliant flame. They shudder with fear, and with trembling steps they seek shelter; but wonder holds them spellbound in their terror and stirs the curiosity that betrays their human weakness. For, fearful though they are, they yet wish to see the dread happenings. At a safe distance on a ridge of sterile ground, they are awed at seeing the dense foliage of the forest crashing down, the sky blackened and obscured with ashes, the whole earth becoming aglow with a strange reflection from the lower sky. Not without alarm did they hear the shrill roaring of the whole forest, as swelling volumes of flames shot skyward; then, as the greedy fire burrowed its way deep down into the very heart of the lowest roots, the raw earth, vanquished by the intense penetrating heat, burst open its mines in a flood of generous gifts; and though it had already been drained of every drop of water, it begins to become a Kquid itself, and to pour forth its various metals in separate streams. In a tawny torrent gleams the most valued of metals, gold; in glistening milk-white streams flows the silver; sluggish copper glides about smoothly; bluish iron ore loses its rigidity and melts into a soft mass. So Aetna, bursting his furnaces, belches forth hissing sulphur and flames. As long as the heat lasts, they continue to flow, but as soon as they feel the cooling effect of the stirring breeze, they congeal; the cooling liquid quickly changes into a glow ing, stiffening mass and, as the fire dies, it becomes a solid body.

With wonder they behold the different streams cease their flow; even while the heat is still slowly failing, they already gaze with greedy eyes and become fascinated by the tempting color; what was an object of fear they now desire.

They recognize that it is the help of God, and they rejoice that, though no particular act of virtue had followed upon their transgression, yet their first prayer had been heard; and so to the Father most high they ascribe the gift, the fire itself with all its blessings and the understanding by which He revealed to them the fire’s usefulness. Of both these facts I am certain, that our parents explored the sacred gift, eagerly examining everything with their eyes, but reached out for the precious gold first of all, for its glitter even then caught their eyes, and the brilliance of the priceless vein captivated them; nor were they satisfied until, its heavy weight proving too much for them, it slipped from their hands, and falling upon a sharp-pointed stone became bent, thus teaching them that a slight blow would cause it to change its shape. A new curiosity suddenly comes upon them, whets their surprised minds, and urges them to apply the lesson this accident taught them.

With a heavy stone they take turns at pounding it, and bend and draw into various shapes the mass that yields readily to their blows. It is no labor at all to do this, but, when put to use, it quickly loses its shape, because the material, being unequal to any great effort, is docile to their eager purpose, but fails them when put to use. So they look for a harder substance. But for this, too, they love the gold, that it taught them that the harder metal is the more useful. Then as its beauty is next to that of gold, they go to the second vein, the silver, which is harder than the tempting gold and hence better fitted for service. But copper is harder still, though the least in appearance. In a short time, with the lesson of the copper before them, practical experience rests satisfied when it has reached the rigid steel.

Selections from Book III

As long as the descendants of Adam, now increased by many generations, steadfastly observed the holy law of God and believed in the one Lord of heaven and earth, all creation, the ponderous earth, the waters of the sea, and the life-giving air, were submissive to the virtuous wishes of man. They had no need of. any systematic training, for their heavenly teacher instructed them in everything. But when the world went astray into sin, and everywhere plunged into the deepest vices, the cursed sons of men lost this wonderful blessing and, forgetting their God, they were not ashamed to fashion to themselves many gods; so great an evil is it to forget the heavenly Father.

The first to fall into this heinous crime was Nimrod, of all men the most impious, born of the slave seed of Cham, a giant in stature and intellect, who ruled over the realms of Babylon. This iniquitous hunter, luring the Persians from the sacred truths of the Lord, led them to the worship of fire. And that arch enemy of mankind [Satan], the source of all wickedness, in his unbounded ambition not only made sport of the sorrows of men with this cunning deception, but forced his way into their minds, took full possession of all their senses, and eventually even of their hearts. For when Nimrod’s only son carried with him to the bitter grave the hope of perpetuating his line, the father was wretched, weeping continually night and day, and voicing his grief in bitter lamentations. While he raved about and sought everywhere the son that was taken from him, he found consolation in his grief and sorrow by having an image of him carved in Parian marble. The unhappy man imagined that this statue of his child had life and feeling and could hear his lamentations. Soon altars were built and dedicated to it, and all were ordered to revere it as a god. Before long all the nations embraced this crime and, following the sinful example, they honored as gods the parents they had loved. Later on kings arc given a like honor and are worshipped as gods, while lying

Greece, in an attempt to foist falsehood upon truth, with many silly arguments gave the same title to obscure shades, pointing in proof to the sepulchral mounds and to the names carved on the tombs. In the end the madness displayed itself in every possible way; on mere trifles, and even on objects of shame, the meaningless name of god was conferred, while the world laughed in derision.

Rapidly the tower rises, and soon its top pierces the clouds and basks in the near heaven’s calm. Then the

Father omnipotent, amazed at the mad deeds of the insolent mob, by a divine command convokes the heavenly senate, and thus He addressed the vassals of His realm:

“Behold the army of the earth! You see their rash ambition’s aim, the height to which their bold folly aspires, believing that structure of human hand can touch the lofty heaven’s vault and open a path to Our celestial realms; and this, though no one in earthly body clothed shall ascend to heaven, save Him who first from heaven shall descend. But as they are of one common stock with one universal language, they will persist in the building of this tower, nor will they cease until the task, in leagued conspiracy begun, shall be completed; so monstrous is the mad folly of man’s mind! Let them understand they may not dare what to their powers is denied. Come, let Us go down, and into hearts that are puffed up in haughty harmony let Us put discord by confusing their tongues, so that their sinful harmony in crime may find its fitting condemnation in the discord of confused tongues.”

His speech was ended; immediately in the midst of their all-absorbing task of rearing the massive tower, complete oblivion takes possession of their stunned faculties, and with it comes an unknown tongue’s halting speech. As zeal for the work wanes, the master builders upbraid the hesitating workers; but no one answers back to words he does not understand; if anyone tries, he only mutters meaningless sounds or gasps in raucous broken speech. And so frustrated, the hands forsake the futile work that was begun with sinful intention. Nobody now looks for his next of kin, no son for his father; but everyone attaches himself to the man he can understand and makes him his companion. For when blood relationships no longer hold, it is language that determines the clan. In equal groups they scatter, seeking far”-distant lands in different climes. Very much like birds that have been lured by a balmy sky to wander in a promiscuous group in search of food through the pleasant fields of the plain; at nightfall, when they seek the sheltering branches, the flock breaks up, and -each little band follows its own group, and, while intermingled in their rapid flight, it is the plumage and call that leads like to follow like. So, too, the people formerly one now separate, going in different directions. Each group becomes a new race, and settling in distant lands they fill the earth with its nations.

De spiritualis historiae gestis

Book I, Book II and Book III

Avitus

Avitus was a Latin Poet and the bishop of Vienne in Gaul living from the end of the 5th century to the beginning of the 6th century. He is most well known for his poetry but also served as secretary for the Burgundian kings. He is considered one of the last masters of the art of rhetoric as taught by the schools of Gaul.

Avitus is known for his surviving writings, which include his letters and one poem “De spiritualis historiae gestis”. The poem was written in classical hexameters and comprised of five books dealing mainly with the themes of original sin, the great flood, the expulsion from paradise and the crossing of the Red Sea, all of which are found in the bible. The first three books of the work comprise a linear story, which tells of the preludes to the Fall of Man, the Fall itself and the consequences, where as books four and five use the tales of the great flood and the crossing of the Red Sea as representations of baptism. His familiarity with the biblical material allows him to render these tales in a way that reveals their beauty and their significance.

This beauty is evident in Avitus’ description of the Paradise at the end of the world in Book I. Following this, in Book II, Avitus describes the Fall of Man, bringing the story to life by focusing mainly on the serpent, its emotions and its deception. In Book III Avitus then describes Adam’s reaction to his guilt portraying him as someone who did not humble himself before God but instead let his pride pour forth. The epic narrative of these three books adds a beauty to the story while giving it a clear dramatic unity.

Selections from Book I

Beyond the land of India where the world begins, where, it is said, the extremities of earth and sky meet, there is a grove on an inaccessible height bounded by a limitless horizon. After his fall the perpetrator of that first transgression was expelled, and in place of the guilty pair, deservedly thrust from their happy abode, the angels of heaven now inhabit that sacred region.

Here no winter ever comes in the regular succession of seasons, nor do summer suns follow after winter’s cold, although the heaven’s zodiac brings back to us the heat of summer and fields again grow white with snow and thickening ice; but here a mild climate preserves an eternal spring. No blustering south wind ever blows; in the pure sky clouds never assemble, but dissipate in an eternal calm.

The soil asks for no rain and none ever falls, for the plants are contented with their own dew, which is generously supplied. A fresh green covers all the ground, and the warm earth is arrayed in charming beauty. On the hills shrubbery and trees are in perpetual foliage; for though they produce a lavish profusion of blossoms, the rising sap gives their stems a vigor ever new. Fruit, which it takes a whole year to produce among us, is there brought to full ripeness every month. No sun ever causes the delicate white of the lily to fade, no bruising hand ever touches the violets; but, always preserving their modest blush, a lovely tint is spread over all their petals. And so as there is no harsh winter or scorching summer heat, spring with its flowers and autumn with its fruits fill out the whole year.

Here, too, the cinnamon grows, which a lying tradition accredits to the land of Sheba. This the long-lived phoenix gathers before he perishes in his life-giving death; for, though consumed with his nest by the flames, he survives himself, rising from the death lie himself procured. And not satisfied with one natural birth, the long life-period of his worn-out body is ever renewed, repeated rebirths replacing an old age that the fire consumes.

In this Paradise the trees distill a fragrant balsam, pouring forth a constant stream from their fruitful stems.

If a light breeze happens to breathe softly, then, with a gentle swaying motion and a low murmur, the luxurious forest trembles in all its leaves and full-blown blossoms, that waft their sweet fragrance afar in every direction.

Here, too, a sparkling spring wells up from a liquid pool.

Brighter its gleam than the flashing of burnished silver, nor does the crystal reflect such brilliance of light from its polished and glassy surface. The fringe of its waters glides unconcerned over precious emeralds, and all the gems, so dear to the vanity of the world, are scattered there like pebbles of flint. Gardens of flowers display every variety of color, and adorn the sweeping plain with nature’s own royal diadem.

Selections from Book II

When Satan saw the newly created mortals leading an existence of undisturbed happiness, obeying the Lord and accepting His law, and amid other blessings enjoying their sovereign dominion over all creation, a spark of jealousy suddenly flared up in his heart, and the passion of envy burst into a torturing conflagration. It was not so long a time since he had fallen from the height of heaven, dragging with him in his downfall a multitude of his followers.

While brooding over his recent disgrace and nursing the wound that was rankling in his breast, he was still more embittered to see another in possession of what he had lost. With mingled feelings of shame and envy he voices the following complaints interrupted by sighs: Woe is me that this fabric of clay should suddenly be raised above us, and that our ruin should prove the exaltation of this hated race! I have had dignity .and power, but now I am nothing more than an exile despised by all. The slime of the earth is lifted up to the high rank of angels; earth occupies heaven, and a lump of clay, fashioned in a base mold, is exalted to a throne to wield the power that we have lost.

Not all power, however, is lost. We still possess some in its unimpaired vigor, the sovereign power of inflicting injury.

I shall not delay; I shall begin by employing flattery to combat them, while youthful security and innocent simplicity, which knows no guile, will be an easy target for my shafts; better, too, that they be seduced by my deceit while they are yet alone, before they shall have sent a fruitful progeny down the eternal ages. That anything immortal shall come forth from the earth is intolerable.

Let the source of the race be destroyed, and the revolt of the head be the seed of death for the members. Let the source of life give birth to the agonies of death; let all be struck down in one individual. The dead root will not produce any living branches. This is my only comfort in my degradation. If I am unable to re-enter the heavens that are forever barred against me, let man, too, find them barred against him. My fall will be more tolerable if this new creature is involved in a like disaster; if, partners in disgrace, we undergo a partnership of suffering; if he will share with us the torment of fire that is awaiting us. To facilitate the task of deceiving them I shall show them the road that I willingly followed and on which I rushed to headlong ruin. The same pride that drove me out of heaven shall also expel man from his home in Paradise. When he had spoken these words, convulsive sighs put an end to his complaints. Accordingly, when with malicious fraud he had assumed a snakelike form, and in his cunning had wholly transformed himself into a serpent, he sped to the Garden of

Eden. The youthful pair happened just then to be joyfully plucking some ruddy apples from a fruitful bougli.

Fearing that, if he were opposed by a resolute masculine will, he would not be able to compass their ruin with his malicious suggestions, the serpent made his tortuous way to the top of the forbidden tree, and when he had dragged his coils to its highest branch, his soft-voiced, subtle words easily secured Eve ‘a attention. ‘’ 0 happy, beautiful maid, fairest creature in the world, whose beauty of form is enhanced by a radiant glow of innocence; thou art to be the parent of the new race; all the world hopes to have thee for its mother. Thou art the chief and truest joy of man and his solace, for without thee he cannot live. Though he, to whom thou art united in wedlock to yield him in time a fair progeny, is thy master, yet is he in all justice a slave to thy love. The Garden of Paradise has fittingly been given to thee and to him as a dwelling place. The earth beneath your feet trembles in submissive service. The product of land and sky and the vast sea’s gulf is bestowed on you to satisfy your wants. Nature has denied you nothing; behold, dominion over all is yours. I am not at all envious, but I am wondering why God begrudges you the fruit of that particular tree. I would like to know who makes such hateful laws, who envies you those blessings and spoils his lavish bounty with prohibitions.’’

Such was the malicious, insidious speech uttered in hissing tones. 0 woman, what folly has darkened your intellect? Are you not ashamed to converse with a serpent, to exchange words with a senseless brute? Shall a vile animal’s impudence aspire to human speech? And do you allow such a perversion of nature, nay, even make reply?

When by drinking in the poisonous words credulous Eve was already consenting to her terrible ruin, then in her folly she spoke to the serpent as follows: ‘’ Sweet serpent, matchless in your flattery, God has not, as you imagine, imposed a fast on us, nor does He forbid us to provide for our bodies with generous refreshment. Behold, before your eyes, the feast which all the world provides. All this the Creator has most generously granted us to make use of;

He has put no restraint upon our appetite. Only this one tree, which you see in the middle of this grove, is forbidden food; only this fruit are we not allowed to touch. All the rest a prodigal appetite may claim. But if sinful selfwill should rashly overstep the law, the Creator has declared with’ dreadful oath that we shall immediately atone for the transgression with some kind of death. Kindly explain to me, most learned serpent, what He means with this word, death; for, inexperienced as we are, it is a thing unknown to us.”

Then the wily serpent, gladly assuming the role of teacher, explains to her the meaning of death, while she listens with charmed ears. ‘’ Woman, there is no reality in this thing that you dread. Not by any means does a dire sentence of death await you, but in his jealousy the Father has not given you a fair deal; He has withheld from you a higher knowledge which He reserves for himself. What pleasure can you derive from contemplating the world’s splendor while your blind intellect is shut up in a wretched prison? Bodily senses and eyes that can see nature has bestowed on brute beast as well as on you. The same sun shines for all, and the vision of the brute is not much inferior to that of man. Take my advice, then; raise your minds to things above, and lift your awakened faculties to heaven. For that forbidden fruit which you are afraid to touch will give you the power to know all the secret things which the Father withholds from you. Only do not delay, do not deny yourself this taste; let the long-enslaved will at last shake off the bondage of the law. For as soon as your lips shall have tasted the divine savor, your eyes will be opened; in the clearness of your vision you will rival the gods, so as to know the holy and the sinful, to distinguish wrong from right, from truth falsehood.”

With downcast eyes the woman credulously marvels, as with lying whispering voice he utters these wonderful promises. And now she begins to hesitate more and more, then listens to him more and more willingly and, all too eager, lends an attention heretofore distracted by the thought of death. As soon as the serpent perceived that she had already succumbed in the crisis that was now upon her, he plucked one of the apples of that fatal tree and, as her interior consent is already won, he quickly offers it to her. In her blind credulity she does not spurn the wretched gift, but with unwary hand reaches for the fruit of death. At times she holds it to her nose and even to her parted lips, and in all simplicity plays with future death.

How often, pricked by remorse, did she, after holding it to her lips, draw it back! How often did her hand, trembling under the weight of the bold, sinful deed, come to a halt, and recoil with dread from the consummation of the crime. Still she longed to be like the gods; in her ambition the poison’s progress was disastrous. Her mind is torn by conflicting passions; one moment a prey to desire, the next moment to fear. Her pride rebels against the restraint of the law; and then again the very law comes to her support.

Back and forth the flood of her divided heart is seething in this bitter conflict. And all the while the seducer does not cease to ply his crafty art; when she wavers he shows the apple; he chides her hesitation, and helps along the tottering ruin of her resistance to its final catastrophe. When, succumbing at last, she made deliberate choice of exposing herself to eternal hunger by tasting of sin, of satisfying the hunger of the serpent with a food which she herself was to eat, she surrendered to the temptation, and being herself bitten by the serpent she bit into the apple.

The delicious poison enters, and with the .morsel admission is given to hateful death. For the moment the wily serpent suppresses his satisfaction, dissembling the savage joy of his brutal victory.

[Then Adam appears on the scene. As he approaches to kiss his wife, she holds out the apple to him, hiring him to eat. Adam shows very little hesitation. He lives up to the serpent’s description of him in line 144, “subjectus tuo amori.”]

Selections from Book III

When Adam clearly realized that he was guilty, when an honest examination revealed to him the full extent of his sin, he did not ask for pardon in humble prayer; he had no recourse to vows and tears; no contrite confession with tears of remorse forestalled a well-deserved punishment; though reduced to a pitiable state, he asked for no pity. But straightening himself up defiantly, he poured forth his mad rantings, while his uncurbed pride flared up as he proceeded in his haughty reproaches. “Alas, it was for her husband’s destruction, then, that this woman was given to me! The woman whom Your first ordinance gave to my miserable self as a companion, she it is that has undone me with her evil counsels after her own downfall; she tempted me to eat the fruit that she had already tasted.

She is the cause of the evil; the sin started with her. I was too trusting, but You alone are the cause of my credulity, You instituted marriage and tied me in bonds that have bewitched me. Would that my happy life had continued such as it once was, that I had never known the yoke of marriage and never been enslaved to a companion so ruinous!’’

“Carmen Paschale”

Book I, Book II and Book V

Sedulius

There is little information recorded about the life of Sedulius. He was a Christian poet in the later half of the 5th century, and the only reliable information that remains of him comes from two letters he wrote to Macedonius. From these it can be gathered he either converted to Christianity later in his life or this is when he began to take his faith more seriously if he was already a Christian. One source also reveals that he might have lived in Italy.

His name survives to this day mainly because of his poem Carmen Paschale, which is based on the stories of the four Gospels. In this poem he imitates the style of Vigil and was influenced by the work of Juvencus. Unlike Juvencus, though, he does not adhere strictly to the style in the Gospels, but is instead freer with his interpretation and rendering of the tales. The poem contains five books and is written in the Roman hexameter style.

Sedulius starts his work in Book I similarly to how Juvencus starts his work where he questions if the infamous deeds of the pagans are immortalized and glorified in epic poetry and drama why shouldn’t the good and true actions of Christ be immortalized and glorified in a similar style. Then, in Book II, Sedulius’ freer style become very evident in his interpretation of the birth of Christ, which instead of going into depth about the actual events surrounding His birth, he poetically intertwines Christ’s coming forth from Mary’s womb and the imagery of the salvation He will bring. The description holds a more spiritual nature rather than informational revealing the influence of Virgil and the Roman poets through this type of language and imagery.

Selections from Book I

While pagan poets endeavor to parade their fictions in high-sounding phrases, and while with the tragedian’s mouthing or the clownish antics of a Geta or in any other form of poetry they bring back to life the noxious poison of infamous events and glorify the memory of shameless deeds, and while with tradition to guide them they trace on papyrus from the Nile thousands of falsehoods, why should I, who am accustomed to chant the psalms of David to the sound of the ten-stringed lyre and, at my place in the holy choir, to sing in quiet tones of heavenly things, why should I keep silent on the glorious miracles of Christ, our

Savior? since I can speak of what is evident to all, and delight in confessing with my whole heart a Lord who (as it were) thunders in all our very senses, who Himself gives us senses and heart, to whom alone is due the homage of the creature that He has made, who holds with eternal justice throughout the vaults of heaven the same power as the

Father—like Him in glory, showing alike the peak and crown of power, equal in honor, with the same power, a sovereign of unending reign, ever the source (of all that is), a common scepter with like glory and majesty, for He is the way of salvation which leads by unerring steps to the gifts of Eastertide. This will be my song; to this let all attend… .

Cease to dwell in the waste lands of the dusty plain and in the barren regions where the parched earth can bear no fruit; and pluck not from the blood-red earth the darkhued poisons with their death-dealing juices damned to be the food of hell; but into the pleasant grassy pastures and the blessed regions of ever-blooming groves enter through those holy springs where the seeds of life are given life through divine waters, and where, from a fountain on high, the happy fields are freshened and freed from thorns, that the harvest may belong to God, and may heap up in gigantic barns the promise of future profit, fruit a hundredfold.

Omnipotent, eternal God, sole hope of the world, who art the Maker of heaven and the Creator of the earth; who puttest a barrier to the resounding tempests of the sea, lest with its swelling waves it swallow up the boundaries of the neighbor earth; who givest the sun its rays and the moon her horned light; who measurest out the light for both night and day; who countest the stars, whose names, powers, orbits, position, and times Thou alone knowest; who hast fashioned the young earth into different bodies, and gavest to the lifeless clod living organism; who, with a better food, restorest man when he was perishing from the sweetness of the forbidden fruit, and by the drink of

Sacred Blood castest out the poison distilled by the serpent; who from one root createst anew the human race when, save those whom the Ark had sheltered, it lay buried under the rushing mountain of seething waters, so that Thy mystic power might show that what the sins of the flesh had killed, might under the protection of this wood be brought to life by the waters that cleanse all the world in one great baptism.

Show me the way which brings the few through the narrow, rocky pass to the city of salvation; give me the light of Thy word divine to shine before my feet, that the path of my life may lead me to the sheepfold in the country where the Good Shepherd keeps His fold, where, leading the way with snow-white fleece, the Lamb of the virgin sheep and all the white robed flock enter in. With Thy guidance the way is not hard; all nature is subject to Thy rule, and at Thy command changes without regard of law into its very opposite. Alas, wretched creatures, who worship empty idols, and who with evil heart fashion idolatrous images and flee from their Creator, and pay homage to what they themselves have made! Why this rage? What great madness makes sport of your souls, that before a bird, a shameful ox, or a twisted serpent, or a creature half man half dog, a creature wholly man should bow in adoration?

Selections from Book II

[Man’s ruin would have been universal and absolute.]

Unless that faithful Father, who is prompt to forgive and slow to punish guilt, that He might save His creature from perishing, and prevent that which in life was so true an image of God from becoming so unlike Him in death, had in pity restored His created work though it was deserving of punishment; unless He had prevented the teeth of the descendants from being on edge by the bitter fruit which their fathers had eaten; and unless He, who is always gentle with His own, had pardoned them, so that whence sin had given rise to death, thence also submission should beget salvation. Then as a delicate rose buds forth amid sharp thorns, so without a blemish to her motherhood’s dignity, the blessed Mary came forth from the stock of Eve, and the second virgin repaired the sin of the first.

Thus as human nature was of old corrupted and lay under the sentence of death, at Christ’s birth man was able to be reborn and to put aside the stain of the old flesh.

What effulgence was there when Christ came forth in

His new-born splendor from the womb of Mary as the bridegroom himself [comes forth] in exultation from the bridal chamber, beautiful in His comely figure beyond the sons of man, in whose radiant person a sweeter grace was diffused over His fair countenance. 0 ever-ready compassion! In order that the yoke of slavery might not oppress us under the dominion of sin, the Lord most high took as His own a slave’s form, and He who from the first heginning of the world had given to all things that were made their proper adornments, had Himself wrapped in poor swaddling clothes; and He, whom neither the flowing wave of the stormy deep nor the vast expanse of the earth nor the spacious temple of the broad skies could contain,

He in the fullness of all his power remained in the small compass of a child’s body and rested quietly in a manger.

Hail, holy Mother, that hast given birth to the King who rules the heaven and the earth throughout all the ages; whose divinity, embracing all things in an eternally decreed cycle, has empire without end! In Thy blessed womb

Thou hast the joys of motherhood together with the glory of virginity; neither before nor after thee was there anyone to compare with thee; thou alone without rival hast found favor with Christ.

Simple shepherds were the first to whom He appeared in

His incarnate form, for He, too, was a shepherd; among the sheep of the flock the Lamb was manifest in all His radiance; and the song of angel choirs proclaimed the wonderful events.

Selections from Book V

When bringing your sacrilegious band armed with swords and clubs, why do you press your lips on His, mingling poison with honey and betraying the Lord with the symbol of affection? Why do you pretend to be one of

His own, and salute Him with a friend’s treachery? Never yet has peace sworn alliance with dreaded swords, never does the savage wolf offer to kiss the trusting, innocent lamb.

Poetry of Venantius Fortunatus

Vexilla Regis, Pange Lingua, Quem Terra, Pontus, Aethera and The Cross of Christ

Venantius Fortunatus

Living in the late 6th century, Venantius Fortunatus was a Latin poet and hymnodist in the Merovingian Court, who started ruling the Franks in the middle of the 6th century, and was a bishop in the early Catholic Church. His career as a poet flourished under the patronage of the Merovingian Court.

There are eleven surviving books of Fortunatus’ Latin poetry, which range in style and include epitaphs, panegyrics, georgics, consolations, and religious poems. The main genre of his poetry was the panegyrics, which was a formal written verse intended to give high praise to a person or thing to be read publicly. He wrote these not only for the members of the Merovingian Court, but also for his friends, family and bishops. The verse of his poetry is especially important in examining the evolution of later Latin literature because he wrote at a time when the rhythmic style of poetry was moving away from the quantitative verse of classical poetry to the more accentual based meter of medieval poetry.

The poem Vexilla Regis is still sung at Vespers, a sunset prayer, during Holy Week, the week leading up to Easter. The poem was written in long verse in honor of a large piece of the True Cross, which is believed to be the remnants of the cross Jesus Christ was crucified on. In Pange Lingua, Fortunatus celebrates the Passion of Christ, which is the final period of his life from the time he entered Jerusalem to his crucifixion.

This poem later inspired Thomas Aquinas to write his hymn Pange Lingua Gloriosi Corporis Mysterium. Quem Terra, Pontus, Aethera revolves around the praise of the Virgin Mary and The Cross of Christ. The poems discuss the crucifixion of Christ likening the cross itself to a tree which bears “new-found fruit”. The difference in Fortunatus’ poetry from that of the poets discussed previously can be seen through these poems showing diversion from the classical styles of poetry.

Vexilla Regis

The royal banners forward go;

The Cross shines forth in mystic glow;

Where He in flesh, our flesh who made,

Our sentence bore, our ransom paid.

(The second stanza was omitted in the revision under Urban VIII, and is not translated by Neale, though he follows the original text of

Fortunatus.)

Where deep for us the spear was dyed,

Life’s torrent rushing from His side,

To wash us in that precious flood

Where mingled water flowed, and blood.

Fulfilled is all that David told

In true prophetic song of old;

Amidst the nations God, saith he,

Hath reigned and triumphed from the Tree.

0 Tree of beauty, Tree of light,

0 Tree with royal purple dight!

Elect on whose triumphal breast

Those holy limbs should find their rest!

On whose dear arms, so widely flung,

The weight of this world’s ransom hung;

The price of human kind to pay,

And spoil the spoiler of his prey.

With fragrance dropping from each bough

Sweeter than sweetest nectar thou;

Decked with the fruit of peace and praise,

And glorious with triumphal lays!

Hail, altar; Hail, 0 Victim! Thee

Decks now Thy Passion’s victory;

Where Life for sinners death endured,

And life by death for man procured.

Pange Lingua

Sing, my tongue the Savior’s glory;

Tell His triumph far and wide;

Tell aloud the famous story

Of His body crucified;

How upon the Cross a victim,

Vanquishing indeath, He died.

Eating of the tree forbidden,

Man had sunk in Satan’s snare,

When our pitying Creator

Did this second Tree prepare;

Destined, many ages later,

That first evil to repair.

Such the order God appointed

When for sin He would atone;

To the serpent thus opposing

Schemes yet deeper than his own;

Thence the remedy procuring,

Whence the fatal wound had come.

So when now at length the fullness

Of the sacred time drew high,

Then the Son, the world’s Creator,

Left His Father’s throne on high;

From a Virgin’s womb appearing,

Clothed in our mortality.

All within a lowly manger,

Lo, a tender babe He lies!

See his gentle Virgin Mother

Lull to sleep His infant cries!

While the limbs of God Incarnate

Round with swathing bands she ties.

Thus did Christ to perfect manhood

In our mortal flesh attain;

Then of his free choice He goeth

To a death of bitter pain;

And as a lamb, upon the altar

Of the Cross, for us is slain.

Lo, with gall His thirst He quenches!

See the thorns upon His brow!

Nails His tender flesh are rending!

See, His side is opened now!

Whence, to cleanse the whole creation,

Streams of blood and water flow.

Faithful Cross! above all other,

One and only noble tree!

None in foliage, none in blossom,

None in fruit thy peers may be;

Sweetest Wood, and sweetest Iron!

Sweetest Weight is hung on thee.

Lofty Tree, bend down thy branches,

To embrace thy sacred load;

Oh, relax the native tension

Of that all too rigid wood;

Gently, gently bear the members

Of the dying King and God.

Tree, which solely wast found worthy

The world’s great Victim to sustain;

Harbor from the raging tempest!

Ark that saved the world again!

Tree, with sacred blood anointed

Of the Lamb for sinners slain.

Quem Terra, Pontus, Aethera

The God whom earth and sea and sky

Adore and laud and magnify,

Who o ‘er their threefold fabric reigns,

The Virgin’s spotless womb contains.

The God, whose will by moon and sun

And all things in due course is done,

Is borne upon a maiden’s breast,

By fullest heavenly grace possest.

How blest that Mother, in whose shrine

The great Artificer divine,

Whose hand contains the earth and sky,

Vouchsafed, as in His ark, to lie.

Blest, in the message Gabriel brought;

Blest, by the work the Spirit wrought;

From whom the Great Desire of earth

Took human flesh and human birth.

0 Queen of all the virgin choir!

Enthroned above the starry sky!

Who with pure milk from thy own breast

Thy own Creator didst supply.

What man had lost in hapless Eve,

Thy sacred womb to man restores;

Thou to the wretched here beneath

Hast opened heaven’s eternal doors.

Hail, 0 refulgent Hall of Light!

Hail, Gate Sublime of heaven’s high King!

Through Thee redeemed to endless life,

Thy praise let all the nations sing.

The Cross of Christ

That blest Cross is displayed, where the Lord in the flesh was suspended,

And, by His blood, from their wounds cleansed and redeemed His elect;

Where, for us men, through His love, become the victim of mercy,

He, the blest Lamb, His sheep saved from the fangs of the wolf;

Where by His palms transpierced He redeemed the world from its ruin,

And by His own dear death closed up the path of the grave.

This was the hand that, transfixed by the nails, and bleeding of old times,

Paul from the depth of his crime ransomed, and Peter from death.

Strong in thy fertile array, 0 Tree of sweetness and glory,

Bearing such new-found fruit ‘midst the green wreaths of thy boughs;

Thou by the savor of life the dead from their slumbers restorest,

Rendering sight to the eyes that have been closed to the day,

Heat is there none that can burn beneath thy shadowy covert;

Nor can the sun in the noon strike, nor the moon in the night.

Planted art thou beside the streams of the rivers of waters;

Foliage and loveliest flowers scattering widely abroad.

Fast in thy arms is enfolded the Vine; from whom in its fullness,

Floweth the blood-red juice, wine that gives life to the soul.

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